An Affair To Remember
by RZZMG
Summary: Hermione gave up her career at the Ministry for her husband, Ron, and now works at Hogwarts... with Draco Malfoy. Her one time tormentor is now pursuing her. This will be an affair to remember! FIC CHALLENGE. Romance/Hot Shagging-DM x HG. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Fic challenge from user "WHITEOWL". Here were the requirements:**

**1. Draco x Hermione of course.**

**2. Hermione's broken in some way.**

**3. Theodore Nott is not allowed to be the kind of lovable guy you love him to be. (sorry about that)**

**4. Set in Hogwarts. Optional as to when**

**5. Include/Reference a unicorn, fairies, Leprechaun and the LochNess Monster.**

**6. Ginny Weasley is not the brilliant best friend you like her to be either. (Again, sorry about that but it had to be done)**

**7. Keep things believable!**

**8. Include a fight, either verbal or physical that's up to you. Optional as between who.**

**9. Angsty, passionate sex. Multiple times if possible.**

**10. Include a bit of voyeurism.**

**Sorry in advance to borrow the title for this fanfic from one of the best films of all time, but I thought the title itself was profoundly appropriate, given the material of the piece. I hope no one is offended!**

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**Timeline: October, 2006 – December 2007**

**Main Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Minerva McGonagall, Theodore Nott**

**Story Details: Draco x Hermione fic. Novel compliant up to The Final Battle of Hogwarts (May, 1998), then follows the EWE format (Epilogue, What Epilogue?). **_**THIS IS A DARK, ROMANTIC, ANGSTY FIC WITH A FLUFFY ENDING.**_

**Summary: Professor Hermione Granger-Weasley is married to a consummate cheater in Ron Weasley, but so far, she's taken the high-road, choosing to forgive his infidelities. However, in her heart, she is desperately in lust with Professor Draco Malfoy – her former childhood enemy, and now co-worker at Hogwarts. Draco has set his sights on wooing Hermione away from her husband, and he's refusing to take 'no' for an answer. With her friends and his parents dead set against them, the lingering problem of what to do about Ron, and her career in the balance, how can Hermione keep what she has and still get what she wants? This will be an affair to remember! Three chapter series. **

**Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst**

**Rating: NC-17 (explicit sexual situations – consensual and non-consensual both, profanity; controversial topics include marital infidelity and pregnancy)**

**IMAGES FOR THIS FANFIC (pictures of the characters, outfits, etc.) can be found here: http:/ / s905 . photobucket . com / albums / ac260 / RZZMG / An%20Affair%20To%20Remember (get rid of all spaces in that URL to load it properly).**

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_**AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER**_

**By: RZZMG**

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**CHAPTER ONE**

**Early October, 2006**

The Hogwarts library was always comfortably quiet on a Friday night, especially after ten o'clock, but now that once succoring silence held a palpable tension to it that threatened to unhinge Hermione. "Please stop," she begged, not looking her companion in the eye, but down at her sensible leather shoes, gripping the book she'd previously been reading before being interrupted, _More Fantastic Beasts_ _& Where To Find These_ _Too,_ close to her chest. "This isn't a game." She swallowed back her nervousness, and rubbed her palm against her dark brown, woolen slacks to remove the moisture that had gathered in the cradle of her hand.

True to character, Draco Malfoy did not take her request with graceful surrender. Instead, he made a challenging step closer. She took one backwards in automatic response, colliding with the bookshelf finally, knowing there was no where left to run now. She was effectively cornered by him as his arms shot out and blocked her escape to both the left and right sides.

"I never considered it one, Granger," he murmured, his breath hot against her face as he drew into her personal space without fear.

"Weasley," she corrected in a whisper, terrified now by her traitorous heart and how it reacted to this man's presence.

"_Granger_," he stubbornly retorted. "We both know your relationship with freckle face is a sham."

She shook her head, put her hands up to his chest to push him away, but the wall of his pectoral muscles - and one hell of a center of gravity - solidly resisted her attempts. "Move, please," she pleaded, shaking all over now. "Don't do this. I'm a married woman."

"On a piece of sodding paper _only_," he snarled, and capturing her small wrists in one hand, Malfoy abruptly yanked them above her head and pressed the entire length of his rock hard body against hers. He swooped down in the next second and kissed her for the first time. They both gasped and moaned at the electric feeling of finally, after years of verbal foreplay, they physically joined. It was true magic.

Hermione's overly active mind completely shut off and her sexually-starved body switched vibrantly on as her co-worker's lips hungrily slanted over hers, at first conquering, then slowly coaxing a response from her, seeking her participation in her own seduction. Her will completely eroded in that instant, and with a whimper, she gave in to her basest desire. The book she'd been holding dropped with an unceremonious 'thunk' to the floor, flipping open to the bookmarked page she'd been reading on Karkadann, a type of very rare Persian Unicorn.

As soon as she relaxed and her mouth parted for him, Draco's tongue shot repeatedly between the split and fiercely twined around hers, sensually coaxing a response. His grip on her wrists let go, and his hands fell into her curls, tangling his long, pale fingers up in them, pulling her head closer to his with a low groan. She gripped his hips tightly for purchase, afraid she'd go tumbling end over end much as her book had, for she felt like she was in free fall, and tongued him back.

This was the best kiss Hermione could ever remember getting, quite honestly. But then again, she'd only lip-locked with two other men in the entirety of her life: once with the Bulgarian heartthrob, Viktor Krum (a hurried, sloppy series of small pecks – her first intimacy with a man), and from then on, only with her husband, Ron (whose kisses were little more than a rushed platitude as he groped to remove her clothes and get her on her back fast). With Draco, this pleasurable art encompassed lingering, sweet, and hot touches that tingled up her spine and melted her brain.

As if cued by her eager rejoinder, his pelvis began grinding against hers and he pushed her further back into the shelf. Pent-up desire exploded between them. Panting hard, they started divesting themselves of clothing in a rush. His hands roamed everywhere, smoothing down the sway of her back, gliding up her waist, cupping her now exposed breasts. His mouth followed an erratic pattern as well, nibbling on her earlobe, sucking hard on her nipples, biting her pulse, sweeping across her lips. Her fingers rubbed circles around his pecks, and then slid around his torso where her nails dragged down his back leaving a trail of red streaks between both shoulder blades. All the while, their tiny cries of pleasure echoed in the empty room about them.

Locked onto her lips, Draco backed her swiftly towards one of the flat tables nearby, and with an easy pull of muscle, he had her bare bottom up on the very edge of the cold, wooden surface. She spread her legs and he inched between her thighs. His exposed cock pressed against her lower lips, rubbing through her crisp hairs, leaving a trail of pre-come behind, dampening them.

"Tell me you want me," he bid, shuddering against her as the rosy-pink tip of his penis found her entrance and waited, straining for completion. He reached down between them and grabbed it, and began circling her sopping wet opening with the crown, tickling and teasing. "Say it, Hermione."

She shivered. It had been _so bloody long_ since she'd had sex – over a year and a half, at least - and even then, she'd never felt this accelerated level of desire for Ron, ever. Her blood was boiling under her overly-sensitized skin, and she flushed hot all over, from the tips of her ears to her toes. She wanted Malfoy so much that her insides ached. It had been all that cleverly built-up anticipation, of course. All of the months of lingering stares across the Quidditch stands or in the Entrance Hall or in the teacher's lounge, the "accidental" brushes against her hands or waist or bottom by his well-manicured, long fingers as they passed each other in the hallways or coming and going from the storage closets or in the Greenhouses, the low whispers against her ear as he bent his tall frame down to wish her good morning or good afternoon or good evening, the argumentative banter that he threw around that had contained double entendre and sly innuendo and blatant intimation… all of it had driven her mad with want for him for almost a full year, and now they hovered on the brink of finally giving in to all of that repressed, wild sexual energy. All it would take was her telling him what she wanted.

Grabbing Draco's biceps, she grit her teeth and looked him in the eye, feeling emboldened, almost drunk on her complete abandonment of control. "TAKE. ME."

It was good enough. He nodded, and lining them up perfectly, he grabbed her thighs and thrust into her roughly, burying himself to the hilt. They both gasped loudly and their foreheads clunked together, as they reveled in the feeling of being so recklessly connected finally. He rocked side to side a bit to help open her up; Godric, he was so big, filling her up, stretching her out.

"You're _tight_," he hissed, his fingers pressing into her thighs, bruising. "Merlin's rod, Granger, you haven't had sex in a long time, have you?"

She shook her head, unable to form coherent sentences; her whole body was primed for feeling only. Silken steel lay locked within her, and it felt _so _delicious to be wanted with such extreme and honest passion. Hermione wanted to cry at the brilliant magnitude of the sensations swirling through her body just then.

Laying her back on the desk gently, Draco leaned over her, staring into her eyes as if memorizing her in this moment. Then, he smirked arrogantly. "Remember not to make too much noise." With that, he rose to his full height, grabbed her hips and started moving. At first, he was leisurely, deliberate, pulling all the way out and gliding all the way back in unhurriedly, letting them both work into the experience. It was so nice, feeling every inch give itself away to her, but the speed wasn't to Hermione's liking. She didn't want enforced restraint - she wanted them free, chaotic, primal. Wrapping her legs around her lover's waist and gripping his wrists firmly, she dug her heels into his arse, urging him on, hastening his momentum. "Fuck me, Malfoy. _Fuck me __hard_," she demanded in a low growl and he swore under his breath, his eyes darkening as the animal inside was given permission to come out and play.

The grip on her hips tightened as he pulled her to him with an acute strength and began giving her what she wanted. He slammed into her, setting a fast, powerful tempo that had her biting back the wail that threatened to give their illicit affair away to the whole castle. "Yes, oh, _yes_," she encouraged, whimpering every time he crashed against her cervix. It was pleasure and pain combined; the kind of ecstasy she'd always hungered for. She peeked up at him and he was alternating between watching her face, watching her breasts jiggle back and forth, and watching himself sink into her. His wintery irises were glimmering, his lips were parted, and his cheeks were as crimson as she knew hers to be - all with the need to find fulfillment in each other soon.

Merlin, he was so beautiful!

In a very short amount of time, her orgasm crept up on her. She clenched her lower muscles forcefully, focusing her whole being on where they were joined. "Oh, gods… I'm so close… _don't stop!_" she whispered harshly. He complied, holding nothing back, crashing into her over and over again, his breathing as desperate as her own. She climaxed after only half a dozen more passes, roaring over the wave of pure bliss, surrendering to the rapture. Draco's name was ripped from her lips as a high-pitched sigh, fire exploded behind her eyelids, and her back and neck bowed off the table.

After the initial explosion, she came down from the great height to feel the rush of sticky sweetness drip out from between her legs and coat them both in a fresh bath of musky wet. The intoxicating scent permeated the air. Draco's rhythm changed suddenly again, his hips slowing, but his thrusts still going deeply in and out. "My turn," he purred, and proceeded to have her as he'd wanted all along – slow, steady, measured. As she lay back enjoying his attentions, the endorphins rushing into her system to sedate her, she watched him between half-lidded eyes. He gazed right back, undaunted.

Pulling her long, golden legs from around his waist, he pulled one foot up towards his mouth, kissing her ankle, lathing his way up towards the back of her knee even as he kept up the rocking motion with his hips. He repeated the process with her other leg, showing her a strange, attentive, tender side that she hadn't know Malfoy capable of. She sighed in pleasure. Ron never touched her this way, not in all the years they'd been married.

He placed her legs up over his shoulders, pulling her bottom off of the table entirely. The angle was incredible, allowing him to jack hammer down into her if he wanted - which was his ultimate intention. Never having been taken this way before, Hermione grabbed onto the edge of the table for stability as his pace sped up again and he started plunging into her a little ruthlessly. Flesh slapped against flesh, and the table rocked back and forth. The sounds of her pounding and their combined breathing grew louder in the high-ceilinged room. Surely, someone would hear them!

She bit her lip to keep herself from keening exuberantly as Draco banged into her clit with each shove, bringing her to the brink again. Her whole body peaked as every nerve combusted at once and she climaxed once more. Her rippling body was enough to send her lover spiraling towards his own orgasm at the same moment. "_YES!_" he hissed between clenched teeth, as his body tensed up, teetered on the knife's blade and then fractured apart. With a series of hot pulsations and a deep moan, he married their bodies, sealing their hips, and came inside of her finally. His shuddering went on for close to ten seconds, and Hermione felt his hot seed shooting into her canal, coursing up her channel into her very womb. It was magnificent and fulfilling.

Slumping over her with a long exhale of satisfaction, Malfoy leaned on the palms of his hands on either side of her, then collapsed to his elbows and rested his brow against her breast. His fingers automatically moved to tangle in her long curly hair. Unlike Ron, who ritualistically pulled out right away and rolled over, she was profoundly aware that Draco kept their bodies intimately connected, refusing to move off even when she squirmed under him to be let up.

The comparison between the men in her life suddenly brought the cold reality of their situation back into Hermione's consciousness and with reclaimed sanity came despondency. Her breath hitched in her chest and she struggled in earnest now for the sexy blonde to get off of her. He shook his head, still trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. "Don't," he wheezed. "Not yet. Just wait." The cooling down time he requested, however, was not spent in post-coital happiness and candy-fluff sentiment for Hermione. She floated in a place of sickening regret and guilt.

She'd just willingly betrayed her wedding vows. She was no better than a common street slag.

Trying to disengage their bodies, wanting to cover her shame and run from the truth, she shoved against him with a sob. Malfoy's hands gripped her wrists, pulling them away from his shoulders and pinning them to the table top with force. "Stop it," he demanded, his voice suddenly powerful and angry, as if picking her thoughts directly out of her mind and finding them wholly distasteful. "Don't ruin this, Granger." He lifted his head and looked her in the eye. "It was about time we fucked. And it wasn't wrong."

Hateful tears filled her eyes. "It _was_ wrong. I'm married. I'm an adulteress now."

Draco didn't budge. "Weasley's a no good slum. You know it."

Angry amber eyes locked onto determined slate grey in a test of wills then. "There's no excuse for breaking my vows like this."

He didn't even blink. "Leave him."

Hermione's mouth gaped open in shock. Before she could reply, he followed up his audacious command with a scathing barb.

"Before he leaves you for that Brown bint finally."

Salt water coursed down her cheeks, splashing into her ear. Divorcing Ron came with a whole other set of serious problems that Draco didn't know and wouldn't understand. To him, everything was black and white, with no gray. "I… can't."

He shook his head and finally pulled out of her. "You mean you _won't_," he contended brusquely, pushing up and stepping away.

Bereft of that wonderful warmth he provided both inside and out, Hermione suddenly felt agonizingly hollow. A part of her wanted to reach out to Malfoy, to draw him back, to make love to him again, but the other side of her personality – the one that cared about propriety and loyalty – they reminded her that she'd made promises to the effect of "'till death do us part" to her ginger-haired husband.

"I thought Gryffindors were supposed to have courage," he bit, turning to retrieve his clothes from the worn, wooden floor as Hermione gingerly sat up and closed her legs modestly.

She didn't have any rejoinder for that accusation because for the last two years, she hadn't much felt like the Gryffindor lioness she'd been as a teenager. Adult life had whittled away her daring and bravery. So, wiping away her tears, she instead watched her lover get dressed, saying nothing, afraid that if she opened her mouth again, it would be filled with vitriolic accusations leveled at both of them. Sometimes words could seriously wound, and although they may eventually be forgiven, they were certainly never forgotten. She'd learned that lesson well every time she'd been called "Mudblood." Those memories still haunted her, even after all these years.

Sliding his pants up and over his hips, Draco turned to argue with her some more, but stopped as he caught her gaze skim down his perfectly chiseled, pale body to that part of him she craved so intensely. As if reading her mind again, he slowly reached around and purposefully stroked his magnificent, thick length for her, which to her amazement, was growing hard again before her eyes. She squirmed and swallowed hard, wondering how it would feel to wrap him around her lips and how he would taste sliding down her throat. To her great disappointment, however, he re-zipped and re-buttoned his trousers after only a few swipes of his fingers, and he buckled his belt back into place with some measure of finality. Retrieving his dark blue, silken shirt next, he buttoned it back up, hiding his scrumptious torso from view. He slipped his fancy, expensive-looking leather shoes back on and silently _Accio_'d his wand to his hand from where it lay on the floor. When he was done, he stalked back over to her, leaning his hands once more against the desk on either side of her nude form. His eyes roamed her from top to bottom lazily, and then they settled on her lips.

"We're going to do this again, Granger," he told her, supremely confident, leering. He leaned his mouth against her left ear, breathing hotly over the sensitive shell and she shuddered in renewing desire, the tips of her breasts reacting involuntarily. "I'm going to fuck you _many_ more times, and I'm going to _fill you_ with my come." His tongue lapped the curves of her neck downwards. "And eventually, when I'm soaked into every ounce of your skin… then you'll leave him." He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, staring her in the eye for several heartbeats, and Hermione knew he was right. Deep in the very center of her being, she knew she'd never be able to resist doing this with him again. It would destroy her marriage… and her friendships.

Abruptly turning on his heel, Draco walked away, leaving her at emotional ground zero to clean up the mess that their clandestine liaison had left behind.

**X~~~~~X**

**Late October – Late November, 2006**

Malfoy had been right – they'd fucked _many_ more times over the course of the next two months.

Hermione had tried to resist the temptation he presented, going out of her way to avoid him as much as possible, but it seemed that she simply could not escape him. When they weren't teaching, in staff meetings or at meals in the Great Hall, he followed her about, immune to a curfew or designated Common Area now that they were no longer students, but actual teachers at Hogwarts. She couldn't seem to dodge him; it was as if he knew exactly where she would go or what tactic she would attempt to maneuver around him, and he'd counter it flawlessly. And every time, she'd pathetically give in.

What made it all even more unbearable was that they were both Heads of their former Houses as well, and as such, were forced to interact on a more regular basis than if they had just been instructors. As part of any upcoming school activities – dances, fund drives, OWLs and NEWT Prep Lecture schedules, meetings with the Head Girl and Boy, etc. – they were again thrust together (thankfully, though, they spent this time with Ravenclaw's Head of House and with Hufflepuff's Head of House). And whenever a Slytherin upset a Gryffindor, or vice versa (as was becoming more common these days), Draco and Hermione had to appear as a united front while reprimanding their charges. That made it quite difficult to get away from him completely.

Nowhere and no time was sacred either.

A few days after their first illicit rendezvous, he found her alone in the kitchens late one night and had sex with her on the wash counter, none of the house elves – who were safely tucked away in their private dorms below – any the wiser. Two mornings later, after breakfast, when both of them had a break from teaching, he'd caught her alone leaving the Owlry and dragged her to the abandoned Quidditch pitch, where (after casting a Warming bubble about them) he'd bounced her up and down on his lap, all while concealed on the Slytherin side bleachers. The next evening, after curfew, he cornered her in the library and dropped to his knees before her, eating her out and fingering her up against a bookshelf. Four days later, on a busy Monday, he'd taken her in the middle of the afternoon in a curtained-off nook near a side stairwell leading to the Astronomy classroom. Students on their way to afternoon classes had passed meters from them as he'd bent her forwards, leaning her palms against the rough stone wall, and thrust into her from behind slowly, torturously. When they both came, it had been to choked huffs of breaths, as he'd refused her whispered pleas to put up a Silencing Charm. That weekend, he'd dragged her out of her bed very late one night (after having snuck into her room with an _Alohamora_) and down to the Great Hall where he proceeded to seduce her on not only the teacher's table, but also Slytherin's and Gryffindor's. Over the next couple of weeks, they'd done it in his Potions classroom against the chalkboard, in the chair in his office in the dungeons, in the Slytherin Common Area on a black leather couch, in her Charms classroom on one of their old desks, leaning over the railing in the Astronomy Tower (she'd sucked him off first that time), on the grass down by the lake, in the old boathouse lying on the dock (her knees had hurt after that one, as she'd ridden him rather hard), and even in Sybil Trelawney's Divination Tower on a pile of her pillows on the floor. During this last Hogsmeade trip, he'd pulled her inside one of the magically-enchanted carriages, and on the twenty minute casual ride back to the castle that day, she'd learned a new sexual position – sitting on Draco's naked lap, her legs spread-eagled, laying fully back against his thighs and shins until the blood rushed into her upside down head. He'd pulled her over his cock using the strength of his hips and his arms alone, and even bent his body at an almost impossible angle to lick her clit while he continued pumping away. She'd never come so hard in her whole life. She'd never been so ashamed of herself either.

Despite her misgivings and her self-recriminations, she didn't seem willing to stop him from touching her, though. Everything she was doing with Draco Malfoy was wrong on every level imaginable, she knew… and yet, when he was inside of her, his lips pressed to hers, their bodies tangled together, it all felt _so right_.

**X~~~~~X**

**Early December, 2006**

One snowy, blustery afternoon, after dressing down and then dismissing two Slytherin Sixth Years who'd been caught fighting over some Seventh Year female Gryffindor's attentions, Hermione hadn't moved fast enough to escape Malfoy's grab at her waist, and the next thing she was aware of, she was slammed against the wall, and her mouth was ravaged by the hungriest kiss she'd yet experienced. Her long, old fashioned witch's dress – a style she'd taken to wearing about the last few days to discourage Draco's interest (to no avail) – was pulled up and her knickers yanked to the side as his fingers sought entrance to her shamefully wet core.

"You always want me, see?" he taunted in her ear, pushing two fingers up and into her, causing her to moan against his collar and grab onto his shoulders tightly. "Stop fighting it so damned much, Granger."

She let him take her right there, against the wall, the heavy fabric of her dress falling between them to secrete their dishonorable act from her eyes, as if hiding it from view could alter the fact that he was, right at that moment, pumping his hard, hot length inside her with deep, powerful strokes that rocked her soul.

After they both came and he pulled out, he righted her panties, but didn't let go. Instead, he pressed his fingers against her crotch, pressing up so she'd feel his seed sliding out of her to soak the thin, cotton fabric. "You can lie to yourself about what we're doing, but you can't deny _this_," he mocked gently, rubbing back and forth over her slit, making sure she felt his fluids mixing with hers. "I'm inside of you, Hermione, where we both know I belong." He kissed her temple, then her jaw, then her lips before pulling away, rearranging her dress for her and then his own clothes. She didn't dare look up into his face during any of it, training her eyes to the floor, feeling her cheeks erupting in red disgrace once more.

He left her standing there alone in her First Year Charms classroom, shaking, ill, terrified – _mortified_. The tears didn't come, however, until she'd returned to her private bedroom and was safely tucked under the accommodating darkness of her bedcovers.

**X~~~~~X**

**Mid December, 2006**

Half way through the month, Hermione was beginning to unravel. After every time she and Malfoy met, she felt the unbearable pangs of regret and guilt. She was constantly nervous now, jumping at every little noise, suspicious of every small look. Did anyone know? She was sure they all did – the students, the teachers, even Ron. They _had_ to know. She and Malfoy had been so careless. Yes, the affair was plainly advertised across her forehead, she was sure – a scarlet "A" carved permanently into the flesh there. Her sleep suffered, her ability to concentrate on teaching was being affected, and she was scared the Headmistress would call her up any day and fire her for incompetence. She stopped eating so much because it seemed she could hold practically nothing down anymore; nausea crept up on her every time she started panicking. By the time the finals before Christmas break rolled around, she was a terrible fright.

On Monday, December 19, she administered the first of the mid-term tests to her Second and Third Years. On Tuesday, December 20, it was the Sixth and Seventh Years. On Wednesday, December 21, the First Years. Finally, on Thursday, December 22, the day before break, she proctored the final tests to her Fourth and Fifth Year students. That evening, she let out a deep sigh, dreading the fact that she'd be leaving on the train tomorrow to return to The Burrow, where she and Ron were officially living with his family. She was not looking forward to it, but at least she'd be bringing her work home with her so she could spend all her time grading tests and avoiding her husband as much as possible.

As she mulled slowly over her dinner – a succulent pork roast with apple stuffing, garnished with a generous portion of steamed cranberry-almond green beans and fresh, homebaked rolls with salted butter - Hermione's eyes unwittingly turned to the thin, golden band that encircled her left ring finger. It was dulled and dented, like her heart had become over the years, and covered in the scratches of time, like her very soul was.

What had happened to her? Malfoy had been right: she'd been so full of courage once… Ah, but that had been before Ron had begun working full-time at the Ministry with Lavender Brown.

As far as she knew, her then-boyfriend had not cheated on her up to that point in their relationship, but for the entire two years after Hermione's former female roommate had begun working in the Auror's Office as a secretary, the rumors had begun and persisted. It didn't help that Ron and Lavender had been seen having lunch together on more than one occasion, that they gave each other Christmas and birthday presents, and that the curvy blond hung around his desk more than a mere receptionist should, wearing low-cut blouses and high-cut skirts – and always with the red or black patent fuck-me heels (let's not forget those!).

In a desperate bid to keep her former Housemate away from Ron, Hermione had coerced her ginger-haired lover's hand into marriage by exaggerating the possibility that she _may_ be pregnant. She hadn't been, but he hadn't known that, and she'd been frantic not to lose the only man she'd loved (and he'd never gotten around to asking her at that point, although they'd been living together for six years), so she sank to underhanded tactics that, in retrospect, she regretted terribly now. Ironically, it had been the exact kind of dishonest trickery that she'd previously believed only someone with a Slytherin's mind – someone like Pansy Parkinson - could stoop to. And yet, it had worked. Ron had married her in a small, quick ceremony at The Burrow a week later, and two weeks after that, her period miraculously came. By then, the newlyweds were so deliriously happy that it hadn't mattered.

"What goes around, comes around," or so the quaint Muggle saying had foretold. In Hermione's case, it was certainly true. The unfortunate and unknown consequence of getting married to Ron backfired spectacularly in her face.

An archaic law about husbands and wives not being allowed to work in the same Ministry Department at the same time was presented to the happy couple upon their return from their month-long honeymoon. Oddly enough, it seemed that the law only affected married couples. Siblings could continue to be employed together, as could fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, fathers and daughters and mothers and sons. In-laws, best friends, former classmates, ex's and neighbors were also acceptable relationships - just not husbands and wives. Given how prudish and conservative most of the Ministry was, this prohibition probably had something to do with sex (although the possibility that your best friend could shag any and all of the "acceptable people" in the closet down the hall without repercussions didn't seem to be an issue, strangely enough).

Needless to say, this caused much strife between the newly bound couple. Feeling guilty for her deceit to begin with, and because it was her way to sacrifice for those she loved, and because she knew if she didn't, Ron would probably resent her for the rest of their married life together, Hermione had caved and tendered her resignation by that Friday afternoon. She'd given up her chosen career for love. But it hadn't been all bad, honestly – she'd received an owl from Professor McGonagall a month later asking her to consider the post of Charms Teacher for Hogwarts, since Flitwick was retiring finally. Three weeks later, on September 4th, 2004, she'd boarded the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 ¾, and taken her seat across from Theodore Nott, the former Slytherin and creepy, new Transfiguration Professor for Hogwarts (he'd accepted the post of taking over for McGonagall that year, as the Headmistress' duties and her advanced aged were beginning to wear on the poor, old bird). On the 6th of September, she'd taught her first official class, and although it was not the ideal position for someone of her temperament (she much preferred the idea of legal research), it was an adequate match for her talents. And she'd enjoyed her time back in her secondary home, even though it meant she and Ron were separated for most of the year (although, with his Auror schedule – still tracking down all of the Death Eaters who had escaped justice after the war – they'd hardly seen each other anyway, except on holidays and the occasional weekend).

But then, a year later, Draco Malfoy had come to accept the post as Potions Master when Horace Slughorn had officially retired finally. For the first six months or so, it had been fine. She and Malfoy had behaved civil towards each other, although the occasional scathing remark or retort – harkening back to their days at school together – would break up the tedium between them. Then, sometime around last year's Yule Ball, something had changed. After that, Draco had begun pursuing her in earnest, disregarding her status as a married witch. She'd ignored him publicly, of course, but in the privacy of her darkened room, she would often fall asleep with him on her mind.

All of that would have been well and good enough left alone had she not decided to surprise Ron one warm, late April afternoon earlier this year.

Floo-ing over to the Ministry during a day when her schedule had been freed (Hagrid, still Professor of Care of Magical Creatures, had taken the students on a field trip to the other side of the lake to spot the Loch Ness Monster running about… the beasty apparently liked messing with Muggles by traveling from lake to lake throughout Scotland through a series of underwater caverns and during May, he could frequently be found sunbathing in Hogwarts waters), she'd arrived at his desk to find him missing. Thinking he could be found in the newly installed cafeteria on the first level, she made her way up to the elevators, passing by a broom closet on her way. By pure chance, she heard something smack against the wooden door of the cupboard and then a familiar voice cry out a protesting "OW!" rather loudly. Suspicious, Hermione approached the door and opened it… to find Ron standing there with his pants around his ankles, and Lavender Brown, her skirt up around her waist and her face practically smooshed into the wall. He was fucking her from behind like a rabbit on amphetamines.

The three of them froze in place and simply stared at each other in horror, and then Hermione had quietly closed the door, stepped away, turned to the elevator and rode it up to the ground level, where she immediately floo'd back to Hogwarts. She'd drifted in a state of shock for a whole day before the tears had finally been unleashed. And it couldn't have been in the worst place possible – at the dining table, eating dinner with the other teachers, the room packed with students. Of course, Draco Malfoy had been there, and he'd witnessed her humiliating break-down, too. It had been McGonagall who'd mothered her away, down into the privacy of the Trophy Room, where she'd finally spilled her guts about her whole sordid relationship with Ronald Weasley to her mentor. To her horror, it was only as she'd readied herself to return to the Great Hall to finish dinner (wiping her nose daintily on McGonagall's proffered handkerchief) that she recognized Malfoy leaning against the wall on the bottom-most stair leading back up. The murderous glint in his eye said he'd heard the whole tragic tale (and after that, he'd doubled his efforts to win her attentions, she'd noted).

Ron had come to see her a few days after "the incident" with flowers and a whole pack of apologies, but the damage had been done by then, and Hermione simply asked him for a divorce. He refused, of course, and the next day, sent Harry and Ginny to try to "talk sense" into her (the condescending git). In what would come as an even bigger blow, her two other best friends turned out to be less true than she'd always assumed; they'd immediately launched a campaign to get her to stay with the unfaithful Ron. Disgusted with them, she cut them off and sent them packing, but like a bad case of Leprechaun Lesions, they just wouldn't go away. Ginny had even blown up at her, accusing her of not truly loving Ron, since she was "giving up on him" – to which Hermione icily responded that Ron had given up on her by bedding the Brown wench. In the end, she'd (mistakenly) finally relented, realizing she would lose more than just Ron were she to end her marriage; Harry and Ginny were part of this unattractive package now, and if she wanted to keep them, she had to keep her idiot husband.

And so now here she was, staring at her ruined gold ring and thinking about her decayed marriage, and wondering how it had all come to this point. She was married to a man she loathed all for the sake of appearances and because she was afraid of what other losses she'd incur if she dumped him, and she was having an affair with a man whom she had previously despised, but was now more than a little obsessed with, but could never have for a multitude of reasons (the least of which was his Pureblood-fanatical relatives, and the most prominent of which had to do with her refusing to ever again give up her career for a man, for if the rules applied to the Ministry about working with someone you were involved with, then surely, the same would be true with Hogwarts).

She finished her dinner, and when the dessert came – a slice of fresh pumpkin pie with sweet cream on – she ate every bite. Then she went back for seconds.

After the meal, the teachers retired to the Staff Room to exchange gifts, per custom.

Neville, the Herbology teacher now, had given her a book on rare magical water plants which made her squee in delight, much to his satisfaction.

Minerva's gift was a beautiful glass rose, frozen as its petals were just unfurling. It had obviously been real at one time, and magically transfigured at the height of its beauty. As she twined the stem between her fingers, she noted the crystal facets catching and reflecting the light beautifully high up on the walls. When she brought it to her face, there was the hint of a night-blooming scent lingering, as it would for eternity. This was a magnificent treasure, reminding her again why she loved magic so. She touched it reverently as she gazed at her old Professor with profoundest thanks.

Ever thoughtful Hagrid gave her an album containing images from her first day as a Professor at Hogwarts. Much of the album was blank, but the first three pages had pictures of her stepping off the train platform at Hogsmeade and looking about, being introduced to the student body at the sorting, standing in front of last year's Christmas tree with the other teachers, winning the Hall of Fame: Favorite Teacher Award – presented by the student body - this past June before school let out for summer, and her arrival for this second year of teaching once more on the train platform. She hugged the album to her chest and smiled at her friend through tears, mouthing 'thank you' at him across the room.

Sybil presented her with a small crystal ball that fit into the palm of her hand. The woman then rather seriously told her that she'd already used it to divine Hermione's future and it boded grim for her. Surpressing a sigh in agreement, Hermione told her rather humorlessly that for once, Sybil was probably right.

Aurora Sinistra's gift was a hand-drawn calendar for the 2006 year containing the phases of the moon, planetary positions, and sun set and sun rise times for every day. She curtsied deeply in appreciation for such a very handy tool.

Septima Vector gave her a number chart that supposedly predicted the next year for her (strangely, it noted a series of major changes to occur starting, oddly enough, tonight and continuing all the way into next October, with a series of serious correlative spikes occurring on various dates throughout, showing extremely strong changes).

Bathsheda Babbling gave everyone a hand-carved rune that symbolized her wishes to each person for the next year (Hermione's symbol was the one for 'LOVE').

Rolanda Hooch made fruit cakes for everyone. Hermione hugged the aging woman with sincere thanks. At least now she had something to contribute to Christmas Eve dinner with the in-laws.

Cuthbert Binns never appeared for these exchanges, she sadly noted. She'd gotten the rather dry, but kindly old ghost something small – Sir Nicholas had suggested the idea, actually – but it looked like Binns wouldn't be coming to collect his gift. She left it for Nick to take to him later.

Helen Merrythought, granddaughter of Hogwarts' former Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Galatea Merrythought, who had taken up her grandmother's post the year after the war had ended, at the request of Minerva, gave her a book on a newly discovered species of Dark Magic-wielding Vampiric Fairies that Rolf Scarmander and his wife, Luna Lovegood-Scarmander, had co-authored. This copy was personally signed by her friend and her husband, and numbered the first of two thousand in print. She hugged the compendium to her chest and recognized the specialness of the gift personally.

Theodore Nott, whom she hadn't had a very good relationship with from the start (they'd argued on the train that first day), gave her a small box that, when opened, exploded with all the light and sound of a half-dozen firecrackers going off at once. She screamed, as did many others in the room, but she noted Theo merely smirked at her reaction from across the room. She was about to give him a fierce talking to when he indicated that she should look down at her feet. The shredded pieces, it seemed, had transformed into a scroll. When she picked it up and hesitantly unrolled it, words appeared across it: "Next time, try to keep it down in the library. Some of us actually use the place to study. – Signed, An Amused Voyeur" Blushing bright red, she re-rolled the scroll, glimpsing up at Theo from across the room. That shrewd smirk was firmly in place. She stuck her tongue out at him and turned her back as he laughed. What a git! She decided then and there that she and Theodore Nott would never be friends, most likely.

Oliver Wood, who had returned to fill Flitwick's other role as Music Teacher, gave Hermione a card that when opened, sang "The Boar's Head Carol." They laughed in delight together over the ancient tune.

She had prolonged opening Malfoy's gift until last, unsure as to whether she could make herself accept anything from him. With shaky fingers, she turned to the window and hid the gift from the sight of the others, unsure as to whether it was appropriate to open it in public or not. It was a jewelry-sized, square, flat box covered in a satin, dark green fabric and hand-tied with a satin white bow. Holding onto the bow and the fabric for safekeeping, she lifted the lid and gasped. Inside were dark blue sapphire (her birth stone!), teardrop-shaped earrings set in platinum. They were the perfect size, as she tended to like understated, small ornamental pieces. Her fingertips caressed them, and the brilliance of the gems winked in the candlelight of the room. No one had ever given her jewelry before; she'd bought her own wedding band, and had never received an engagement ring, given how quickly she and Ron had rushed their nuptials.

From the corner of her eye, Draco's stepped up beside her, staring out the window the same as she. Turning her head, she looked up at his greater height and took a deep breath to calm her heart. He looked positively handsome in his black robes and crisp, white, collared shirt, and he smelled delicious – rich mysterious spices and wood smoke. "Happy Christmas, Granger," he murmured softly, turning his head and laying his molten silver gaze on her.

Her mouth was suddenly drier than the Mongolian desert. "Ha… happy Christmas, Malfoy." She looked down quick, sure her heart had dangerously been reflected in her eyes for a moment. "Thank you so much for the present. They're… stunning." She swallowed and closed her eyes. "No one's ever given me jewelry before. Thank you."

"Want help putting them in?" he offered innocently, still speaking quietly enough that the others – most of whom were imbibing hot buttered rum from a simmering cauldron that had been setup on a table next to the hearth and engaging in loud, raucous conversation now that they were away from young, curious eyes – could not hear.

Hermione considered the proposal. She knew what he was hinting at: going back to her room with her to put something else in her. This was the first time he'd made her an offer for sex instead of just taking her as he wanted, and it felt like a fundamental shift in their relationship. For some reason, it felt very much like a test.

_Say no. Walk away._

She bit her lip and nodded. Founders forgive her, but she didn't want to turn Malfoy away anymore, no matter how terrible the consequences.

"Come to my room," he whispered, staring back out the window as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and as if this were the most casual of conversations. "Thirty minutes." With that, he turned, saying goodnight to the others, gave thanks again for the many kind gifts he'd received, and made his way out.

Shrinking all her gifts and putting them in her waist pouch with the Undetectable Extensions Charm on it, she casually walked over to Septima to discuss the chart she'd been given, asking about the strange anomalies. After a ten minute evaluation, neither could determine what they meant, but Septima was sure by following the numbers that the first big change would be emotionally altering, the second career altering, and the third life altering.

Riotous butterflies danced in Hermione's stomach once more, and she excused herself to go to the ladies. Running the tap with cool water, she dipped a towel from the rack into it and wiped it across her brow and the back of her neck, trying to reset her internal temperature. As she did so, she looked up at her pale reflection in the mirror. She felt awful, looked a little tired, and her hair was a little limp, but other than that, it was the same Hermione looking back at her as it had always been. She just needed to take better care of herself, it seemed. With a wave of her wand, though, she fixed herself with Glamour Charms. Instantly, her mood improved.

She was going to be with Draco tonight, in his bed. It was the first time he'd invited her there. She knew where his room was located; she had passed his wooden door whenever she was in the Slytherin Common Area (she blushed remembering the last time she'd been there… that couch had made too much noise!). Could she really go through with this? Willingly walk into the viper's pit without the excuse of being coerced?

All she had to do was think of their first time together in the library, and she knew the answer.

Slipping her wedding ring off and putting it into her Bag of Holding, she headed off to the dungeons, her decision made.

**X~~~~~X**

Hermione arrived at The Burrow the next afternoon after sleeping in a bit (and making love with Draco once more). Immediately, she was glommed onto by Ginny and Harry's four-year old son, James Sirius. "Auntie 'Mione!" he crowed, locking his arms about her knees.

Smiling down at her godson, she managed to hug him back without toppling over. "Hey, squirt, you're getting big!"

Stepping back, James affected an insulted posture, fists on his hips. "I'm no squirt! I'm almost five."

Hermione nodded with faux enlightenment. "Oh, I see. So you are. I'm sorry about that, Jimmy."

The little boy shook his head firmly. "James. Jimmy's for babies."

Bending down to his height, she looked him in the eye. "James it is, then," she seriously conceded. "Where are your mum and dad, James?"

"Right behind you," Harry cheekily stated, and looking over her shoulder, James' parents grinned down upon her. She rose to her feet with a crack of knees and threw herself into a dual hug with her best friends.

"Hey you two, I've missed you," she honestly admitted. She pulled back and looked at them both. "How have you been?"

Harry and Ginny traded a look and then grinned. Ginny patted her stomach. "Pregnant again, thank you very much."

There was much squealing then, which was shared with Molly as the woman joined them from the kitchen, and the two boys in the room were totally forgotten at that point. It was only later in the afternoon, after all of the catch up had been done, and when all of the men came home, wives in tow, that Hermione realized that she hadn't even unpacked yet. After greeting Arthur, George and Angela and their son Fred II, Bill and Fleur and their daughter Victorie, Percy and Audrey and their daughter Molly, and Charlie, she rushed upstairs with her small tourist bag and put her things away in the drawers. When she was done, she made her way back down to the kitchen to help in the prep for the Christmas Eve feast.

"You haven't even asked where Ron is," Harry noted, coming up beside her to help in the preparation of the traditional pumpkin soup.

Hermione blinked, not even realizing she'd made such a huge faux pas. "Where's Ron then?" she questioned, knowing he and Harry worked in the same department and were often partnered up on cases. "Another lead?" Everyone knew her best male friend had been avidly leading the charge on hunting down the last of the Death Eaters, and Ron was often utilized on grunt work for the cause.

Harry nodded. "We're close to Rastaban Lestrange," he admitted, watching her face carefully.

Hermione froze. Lestrange had been Bellatrix's husband, and he was a slippery eel. She'd heard during the various Death Eater trials that he'd stated clearly that he intended on killing 'The Golden Trio' – she, Harry and Ron – personally for their involvement in his wife's death. "Good," she sniffed. "I hope you catch that bastard and lock him away forever."

Her friend nodded enthusiastically. "Ron's been working a lot of overtime at the office on the tracking spells and maps, pouring over reports." He looked at her slyly. "He's really been busting himself to do the right thing."

Hermione simply nodded, but behind her face, she secretly wished Harry would learn to keep his unwanted opinions – especially as they attempted to sway her feelings for her husband – to himself. She didn't want to like Ron after everything he'd done to embarrass and hurt her. She had never truly forgiven him; wasn't even sure she ever could. He'd broken her trust, and if it hadn't been for the fact that she'd been, effectively, made to stay with him under duress, she would have ended their relationship months ago. The fact that she couldn't freely give herself openly to Draco was all because of Ron's stubborn refusal to do the right thing and let her go on with her life. Her feelings of love had transformed into resentment over the course of eight short months.

"Harry, can you come help?" Molly asked, opening the oven trap. "I just need someone to stoke the coals." The woman may use magic for many things, but cooking generally wasn't one of them. That she preferred to do the old fashioned way – over a well-lit fire. Harry moved off to help Mrs. Weasley, and that left Hermione alone to her thoughts, thankfully. She stirred the soup, losing herself in the memories of last night.

The first thing Draco had done after she'd entered his room, locked the door and bespelled it for privacy, was to hug her close to his heart. As he stroked her spine under her jumper with one hand, while the other ran through her curls, he was strangely tender, unlike any other time they'd been together. He'd taken her robes and threw them over a cozy chair before the lighted hearth, then asked her to take out the earrings. She did, and he helped her put them in her ears, and then tapped them with his fingertips after to watch their vibrant colors brilliantly cascade under their surface as he moved them in the dim light.

"_They're beautiful on you... __You're__ beautiful, Hermione."_

He'd taken her clothes off of her then – every stitch. It was another first for them, as they were usually so rushed to complete the sex act that they had to leave pants or shoes or shirts hanging on. She helped him to remove his own uniform, and when they were both nude, they lightly ran fingers over the other's body, exploring fully and unhurriedly. He worshipped her with his mouth next, running it over every inch of visible skin before dipping between her legs to claim her kitty once more with his tongue. He lapped, flicked, bit, nibbled and suckled, adding his fingers only near the end – inserting them into her opening and rhythmically moving them in and out, rubbing her g-spot and finally making her come. He held onto her until her shuddering ceased, and then he'd guided her to his bed.

When she halted him and fell to her knees before him instead, he groaned loudly. She took his full length into her mouth, feeling the tip slide down her throat, clench around him, and then releasing him for a moment before adding suction as she pulled back. In this way, she pleasured him. He didn't finish though, drawing her up to her feet again, backing her the rest of the way to his mattress.

She'd crawled into the center of his bed and watched him lean over her. They'd stared at each other in complete silence for long seconds, and then he tilted his lips down and claimed hers once more, even as he parted her thighs and slid into her slowly. It was an exquisite joining of flesh.

He made love to her three times that night, and once more before wishing her a Happy Christmas the next morning and letting her go. Each touch, each sound… it had impressed itself upon her heart, binding her to him unalterably.

"Hermione, the soup!" Ginny screeched in warning.

Reacting in record time, she managed to get the cauldron off the old-fashioned wood-burning stove, thus saving the soup from disaster. Unfortunately, she also burned her hands as she'd unthinkingly gripped the handles first, falling back on Muggle ways before considering the use of magic to solve her problem. Molly helped to treat the burns the best she could, casting several healing spells, but the stiff, fiery throbbing remained. Ginny wrapped clean linen bandages around her palms for her, and for the rest of the evening, she was firmly told to stay out of the kitchen and recuperate.

Ron came through the floo network close to eight o'clock that night. He said a hearty hello to everyone, noted Hermione sitting on the couch and hesitantly greeted her with a small kiss on the cheek, and then hurried up to their shared room to change. With an encouraging nod from Arthur, Hermione made her way after her husband, determined to talk to him about the possibility of ending their marriage amicably. What she saw as she opened the door to their bedroom stopped her cold.

Ron was completely nude, and he was at a three-quarters view from the door, so she could see just about everything. Marring the front of his torso, his arms and shoulders, his buttocks and back were women's fingernail marks, bite marks, and love bruises.

He turned a shocked look upon her, and it was the same response as that time she'd caught him in the broom closet. There was no question what he'd been doing out so late, and with whom. She blinked, turned around, closed the door and made her way back down to the living room, seating herself back on the sofa without a word.

"'Mione, what's wrong?" Harry asked, concerned, seating himself to her right.

She didn't want to tell him, not here and not now. It would ruin everyone's Christmas. Molly and Arthur had gone through a lot of trouble for them. She'd wait until after the break, and then she'd make it clear to everyone that her marriage was over. There would be absolutely no reconciliation.

Putting on a fake smile, reaching deep down into her guts for courage, she made her voice light, even as Ron came hurrying down the stairs. "Nothing's wrong, Harry. Everything's fine. My hands are hurting me a bit, that's all." She turned to her husband. "How was work?" She tried to make it sound like she really gave a shite, like she didn't know what he'd really been doing.

Ron blinked, catching on to the fact that Hermione wasn't going to out him in front of everyone just then. "It… was okay." He looked down at his big, clumsy feet. "How's teaching?"

She nodded, leaning back into the cushions, crossing her legs casually, careful of the placement of her hands. "It's going really well. I have papers to grade for the mid-terms over this holiday, but I'm confident that the majority of my students passed. This new crop of wizards and witches might even be brighter than our class. They've _definitely_ got a knack for inventing new and unusual ways to get around the gender wards in the dorms." She was trying a little too hard, it was obvious, but things needed to appear 'normal,' so she forced it. Chuckling, she looked at Harry. "But, fortunately for the staff, the majority of kids today don't come equipped with Invisibility Cloaks."

He snickered and shook his head, and Ron huffed in nervous amusement, still lingering near the staircase, unsure as to where to sit, obviously. Hermione decided in that moment that there was absolutely no reason to be upset about what she'd seen. She didn't love Ron anymore, and their marriage was clearly over for both of them. They could, it seemed, move past this amicably, if they wanted. And then she'd be free to be with Draco finally.

"Stop standing around like a lump, Ron," she offered, nodding towards the empty space to her left. "Come sit. It's Christmas, after all."

Shyly, he came and sat on the couch near her and she reached out with her injured hand and patted her husband's freckled wrist lightly, letting him know everything was going to be all right. Harry grinned then, but for a completely different reason than his friends.

**X~~~~~X**

"I'll contact a solicitor to draw up the necessary paperwork," she offered quietly, as she lay next to Ron's prone form on the bed. He stayed at least half a meter away from her, at both of their insistence. "We should wait until the paperwork's filed to announce it and go forward, however. I don't want to ruin everyone's holiday."

Ron stared up at the ceiling, his arms cradled behind his head. "Good thinking. Mum's going to have a fit when she finds out. And Ginny. And Harry."

Hermione shrugged. "We don't have to make them feel so badly about it if we show them that this is an agreeable solution. And, honestly, Ron, I don't hate you. I was hurt and resentful, but I have never hated you." She turned her head, watching his shadows play along his features, the angles and curves highlighted by the moonlight filtering through the window on the opposite side of him. She stared at his long eyelashes. "We were friends before all of this. I think it's possible, if you want to remain that way after. Not as close, obviously, but still friends."

He turned and looked at her seriously, and the room was still and silent. Outside, the snow was falling lightly, she noted. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he finally confessed. "For always, always hurting you."

His apology was sincere and it meant more than he would ever know to hear it. Tears prickled her eyes and fell in hot cascades down the sides of her cheeks. "It's all forgiven, Ron. Just try not to do it from now on, right?" She tentatively reached across the space between them and held out her hand for his. "Friends, then."

He nodded and carefully touched her fingertips, making sure not to press into her injuries. "Friends." He gave her a sad smile. "Happy Christmas, Hermione."

She returned his look. "Happy Christmas, Ron."

**X~~~~~X**

Christmas morning was a joyful event, with a lot of present opening (Ron, in a rare moment of chivalry – and now that everything had been resolved between them – offered to open Hermione's gifts so her hands wouldn't be hurt again). The children, in particular, were highly enthusiastic about their new toys, books and clothes, but were forced away for half an hour to consume breakfast. The cousins then played together with a magical replica Hogwarts Express train set that James had received from his parents, as the adults sat around their morning coffees and teas and watched. Soon, bored with watching the train go round and round, the kids bundled up into the hand knit jumpers, scarves, and hats that grandma had knitted for each of them and headed outside to play in the snow. They built snowmen and made snow angels. Hermione and the other adults stood by to watch (Fred, Harry, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Arthur and Ron all got into a massive snowball fight even while the women stood to the side rolling their eyes in amusement). It started snowing lightly again, and that was the sign to go back inside to dry off and warm back up.

The adults pulled their weight to finish up Christmas dinner together – a grand event, consisting of a large, stuffed goose, bangers, relishes, red currant jelly, roasted potatoes, bread sauce, steamed brussel sprouts with carrots, and for dessert, a mince pie and a plum pudding with brandy. The children sat around and read books or tried to figure out the small, wooden puzzles that required the movement of pieces around the board in the right order to complete the picture (these were from Hermione and Ron, of course).

They ate late, around four o'clock, and stuffed their bellies to brimming. At five o'clock, the sun had set fully, and the darkness, combined with the warmth of the fire and the dim house lulled Hermione into sleep. She cuddled on the couch against the arm and dozed.

George woke her around eight, thrusting her winter clothes back into her hands, motioning for her to follow him outside. By the time she'd wound her scarf about her neck and stepped down into the backyard, the Weasley annual fireworks display had begun. In awe, Hermione stood next to Ron and watched as Angela and George (who were the perfect couple, as they both adored mischief like this) lit off a variety of crackers. Sparkling flower blossoms filled the sky in a rainbow of colors.

"How beautiful!" Hermione breathed, enrapt with the show.

Ron turned his head and looked at her, then tentatively took her fingers in his. "Yes, it is, isn't it?" he mumbled.

She looked at him, and for a moment, there was regret that this had not worked out. But, just on the other side of that feeling lay her love for Draco, and so she no longer felt tortured by her failed marriage, understanding right then and there that some things were simply not meant to be. And that was okay, too.

Giving Ron's fingers a gentle squeeze, she pulled away and turned back to the nighttime sky, wishing Draco a Happy Christmas in her heart.

**X~~~~~X**

That whole week was blissfully fun. Hermione's hands healed up quickly with daily healing spells cast upon them, and soon she was out joining in the snowball tossing fun as well. At one point, Ron even managed to tackle her into a snow bank, and then rolled them laughingly over and over until they crashed into one of Victorie's snowwomen, causing it to break apart in the middle and tumble down upon them both. They laughed until they were sick to their stomachs, and when they got back into the house, they'd had to take hot showers (separate, of course) to keep from catching chill.

For a few days there, it was like they were all children themselves again, as Harry, Ginny and the others all romped and played together, enjoying their break from the world and reveling in that warmth that comes from being around family.

But the entertainment came to an end all too soon. Hermione decided to leave earlier than scheduled from the Weasley home to return to Hogwarts, so on the 30th, with a great amount of hugging and cheek kissing, she floo'd back into McGonagall's office and made her way down to her room with her travel trunk in hand. She knew Draco wouldn't be back so soon, so she spent her days in the library, correcting papers and preparing her lesson plan for the remainder of the second and all of third term.

On the 31st, many of the teachers returned, and that evening, they ate together amidst companionable chatter. Theodore Nott, Hermione noticed, was absent still, as was Draco. This struck her as odd, since she knew the two men to have some sort of an indefinable friendship.

On Sunday the 1st of January, the Hogwarts Express appeared and the students assembled in the Great Hall that evening. Draco and Theodore both appeared then, and took their seats, engaged in deep conversation, totally ignoring her. Disheartened that she hadn't had an opportunity to even share eye contact with her lover, Hermione turned back to her meal, suddenly feeling nauseated again. When dessert came, she didn't eat hers; merely sipping her tea to calm her nerves. Draco, however, stood without another word and left the room. He hadn't looked at her at all.

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_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

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__AUTHOR'S NOTES:

__Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Early January, 2007**

On Monday the 2nd of January, classes resumed. Hermione passed back the results of the mid-term tests for years one, two and three, and was pleased to note that the lowest grade had been an "Acceptable." In reward, she assigned no homework for the week.

On Tuesday, years six and seven receive their test scores. She was disappointed that there had been four "Poor" and one "Dreadful" mark, but discussed after class with each individual who'd done badly the possibility of tutoring. She asked the Head Girl and Boy later that evening to arrange for the extra help for her struggling students.

On Wednesday, the one day she had a break from teaching, Hermione owl'd a solicitor in London's wizarding community to begin her divorce proceedings.

On Thursday, years four and five received back their test scores. All but on student received "Acceptable" scores or above. The one "Troll" was also assigned to the Head Girl and Boy for tutoring scheduling, as she was worried because his O.W.L.s were coming up, and he needed to pass Charms with at least an "Acceptable" or he might be held back.

By Friday's dinner, Hermione was definitely heart sore. Draco had clearly been avoiding her all week. He hadn't spoken a word to her, nor met her gaze except once, and even then he'd turned aside quickly. He'd also been flirting with Helen Merrythought rather blatantly all week. Hurt by his behavior, Hermione finally decided she'd had enough and wanted answers.

At eight p.m. on the dot that same night, Hermione knocked on Draco's door. He appeared shirtless in pajama bottoms. "Going to bed so early?" she asked, trying to calm her racing heart. The sight of him half naked made her mind turn to jelly, so she stared into his eyes instead, forcing herself to focus.

Draco stared daggers back at her. "So? What's it to you?"

She blinked, taken aback by the vehemence in his voice. "What's going on? Why are you angry?"

A muscle twitched under the perfect alabaster cheek. "Is there a reason why I should be?"

Her eyebrows shot down in confusion. "You tell me."

"Go back to your room, Hermione," he growled, irritated. "I'm not in the mood for your games tonight."

He started to shut the door when she purposefully propped her foot against the outside wood and set her heel, stopping his motion. "What the hell is going on, Draco? What game do you incorrectly think I'm playing with you exactly?"

He tsk'd in annoyance and opened the door, reached out and yanked her into his room, slamming the door shut behind her. He _Accio_'d his wand non-verbally from across the room and waved it over the door for privacy, then he headed to one of the two cozy chairs in the room and sat down. He crossed his legs European style and just stared at her for the longest time, considering, his wand tapping against the padded arm under his hand for the long minutes it took for him to finally decide on a topic. In that position, with his face set so coldly, and his silhouette framed by the flickering fire in the hearth behind, he resembled a dark, amber-haired, bronze-eyed demon loosed straight from the pages of Dante's _Inferno_. "Have fun at the Weasel's house then?" he asked, his voice deceptively mild, his eyes glittering menacingly in the firelight.

Hermione slowly shrugged, unsure as to why that might be an issue. "Yes, they're my family. Why wouldn't I enjoy their company?"

The tapping sped up and hit harder, and she knew he hadn't liked her response one bit. "How's the _loving_ husband?"

She flinched. Now that had been a low blow. Draco always had a way of hitting where it hurt; he'd excelled at cruel taunting back in secondary school. She looked to the side, not wanting him to see how much he'd upset her with that one barb. "He's… fine, I guess."

"You guess? I'd have thought you'd _know_."

Her eyes slid back to his face. Something in his tone… "What is this all about, Draco?"

"Malfoy," he sternly iterated, his jaw clenched. "To you, my name is Malfoy. And you're Weasley."

Hermione couldn't have been more shocked than if he'd dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. She shook her head. "Draco," she insisted. "What have I done to make you this angry with me?"

He sneered and all of the hurtful memories from their childhood came back with that one look. "You could definitely rival Pansy for the Marlowe Award, you know. 'Best Actress in a Lead Role.' You're a shoo-in, Weasley."

She stamped her foot, frustrated. "What acting? By Merlin, Draco, why won't you just tell me why you're upset?"

"Upset?" the word was hissed between clenched teeth. "What could possibly make me upset? The fact that the second you're out of my sight, you frolic around with your husband like you're still in love with each other, or the fact that you dared to come back here after and pretend you weren't shagging him the whole time you were gone."

Her jaw hit the floor with incredulity. "What?"

He said nothing, simply stared at her with venomous, spitting eyes across the distance, his wand continuing to tap now almost violently against the chair. Panic flooded Hermione's heart. He really thought those things, didn't he? Sure, she'd had fun with Ron once the air had been cleared between them, but that was because they'd finally come to the shared understanding that their marriage was really over, but that their friendship wouldn't suffer for it.

She had to make Draco understand that she was leaving Ron finally - for him.

Crossing the room, she reached out, thinking physical contact might go a long way towards soothing this green-eyed monster of jealousy that had risen up between them, but she stopped short when Draco suddenly stood, his body menacingly large, looming over hers. His face was so much like his father's all of the sudden, and she flashed back to the day at the Manor House when Lucius Malfoy had had stood over her and gazed into her eyes, seeking confirmation of her identity so he could turn her over to the Dark Lord. And the torture that followed after at Bellatrix's hand… Sensing the shift in moods, magically feeling a negative, almost sinister vibration through the auras between them, Hermione took a step back unconsciously, then another, abruptly afraid. Her lover followed her, stalking her like a predator, which only amplified her growing terror. She put her hands out in front of her to halt him. "Draco, stop, please. Let's talk about this. You're scaring me."

His harsh bark was loud in the room. "But scaring you is always what I've done best, right?" Her back hit the wall and she pressed as far into the stone as she could, eyes wide, limbs trembling. Draco kept coming. "Unlike your _loving, doting_ husband, I could never possibly be a good guy. I'm a former Death Eater, after all." He bowed her arms under the pressure of his chest pushing forward with all his weight, pinning her in place. "I think, _sweetheart_, we both just forgot who I really was there for a few months." His eyes were narrowed pools of hate, but his left hand came up and stroked her right cheek gently, and his tone softened. "You really had me going there for a while, Weasley. I honestly thought…" He stopped, clenching his jaw, and his hand reached into her curls and fisted the hair, pulling on it with increasing pressure. "But you're nothing but a spectacular liar. You played me all along, didn't you? Just like you played freckle face to get him to marry you years ago." He pulled harder. "_Didn't you?_" he hissed in her face, irate once more.

Tears leaked out of Hermione's eyes. "N… no," she tried to explain, but he cut her off by yanking hard on her hair again. "S… st… stop," she begged, crying in earnest now. "Stop, please. It's not like that."

"Not like what, Hermione?" he shouted, pressing his face close. "Not like you didn't know _exactly_ how to get me to chase after you from the start? You were so coy and believable, playing hard to get. I've wanted you since our school days, and you knew it!" He bit her bottom lip hard, bruising it, but let her go quickly, as if disgusted with the idea of kissing her. When he spoke again, his voice was a sibilant whisper. "There's no use denying it either. I heard you admit your trickery to McGonagall myself, remember? You _like_ toying with men's affections. All you had to do was bat those pretty, little eyelashes and the Weasel King was yours. But with me… you knew I needed more of a challenge. For almost a year I pursued you while you laughed at me behind your face." He smirked rancorously. "Perfectly played out, by the way. But then again, charming things has always been your talent, _darling_. You couldn't have picked a better post here to teach, in fact."

She tried to shake her head, but he had it firmly in his grasp. "No," she insisted. He was so obviously hurt by her relationship with her soon-to-be ex-husband, and it was making him irrationally mistrustful, his imagination running wild. She needed him to hear the truth. "I admit I was deceitful with Ron in the beginning, and I've spent years regretting that mistake. It was stupid and immature and wrong. But you… I _never_ used you. I _never _played you." She tried to wriggle her fingers up towards his face, touching the bottom of his chin just barely with her fingertips. "I fell for you honestly, Draco."

He jerked his head away, grabbed her wrists with his free hand, and snarled into her face. "Lying witch! Don't you _dare_! You'd say anything now!" He was shouting at her, his face purpling with rage. "I saw you! I saw you fooling about in the snow together, and sleeping in the same bed at night. I saw you holding hands practically every day and I saw you two snogging like you were eating each other up!" He pressed his wand against her throat. "So shut your deceitful, filthy mouth. I won't listen anymore!"

Grabbing her roughly, he pulled her across the room after him, throwing her down on his bed and tossing his wand away. He stood over her, breathing hard, clearly on the edge of madness. She scooted away, trying to put space between them, and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He'd _Silencio_'d her non-verbally! Before she could recover from the shock of him using magic on her without her permission, he was on her, crushing her into the mattress, his mouth punishingly pressed to hers. Too dazed to move, Hermione lay limply under Draco, her mind having gone totally blank as he assaulted her lips.

Strong hands took advantage of her distraction and moved fast, ripping her blouse up the middle, popping buttons. A knee pressed between her thighs, forcing up her skirt, insistently rubbing against her knickers. He tore her bra down, freeing her breasts and bent his head to begin sucking hard on her nipples, leaving love bruises behind. As soon as he bit her tender areola hard enough to break skin, the fog of inactivity blew away, and panic took its place.

He was truly going to force himself on her, wasn't he?

Hermione pushed against Draco's shoulders in earnest protest then, but she had never been athletic and had no endurance or strength really; her potency had always been her mind. It was easy for him with his greater strength to grab both of her wrists in one larger hand and pin them to the bed above her head, and all the while, his other hand moved down to her panties and dipped under the waist band to begin rubbing circles around her clit. Silently, she wept at being so roughly handled, continuing to squirm and struggle under him, mutely screaming for him to stop.

Lifting his head away from her breasts and shifting over to trap her thighs between his, Draco kissed her again, thrusting his tongue urgently into her mouth. An anguished whimper escaped his throat unexpectedly, and she peeked open her lids to look at him. His eyes were closed tight; his face a mask of suffering.

There was a moment of clarity in those quick seconds.

By all that was holy, he loved her, didn't he?

It all made sense now. Part of why he was so hurt was because he incorrectly perceived that she was unwilling to leave Ron for him, and in fact, that she'd never even meant to do so to begin with. The other half of the problem had to do with what he'd brought up just a couple of minutes ago: his former status as a Death Eater.

Their relationship had definitely changed on Christmas Eve, before she'd left for The Burrow. That much was now certain. She'd felt it then, but she hadn't realized until just this moment that he'd felt it as well. Clearly, from his perspective, a more permanent arrangement had been somehow silently decided between them that night. But now Draco thought she was going back on that unspoken promise. No, worse - that she had never _meant_ to keep it at all, and that he'd been made to play the jape as a result. He truly believed she'd been toying with his feelings for kicks. Perhaps that's what he was used to dealing with when it came to past relationships and other women.

Then there was the other side of the issue: for months, she'd been denying the feelings between them, hiding them away in shame, which in effect was no different from denying _him_. That reaction had obviously stung him badly – and set the stage for unwittingly nurturing his insecurities about his own self-worth. Specifically, that because of his past, he wasn't good enough for anything more than a passing fuck. The message she'd unwittingly been sending him was that she'd rather stay with an adulterer like Ron than be with him, despite all of Draco's attempts to redeem himself and remain on the straight and narrow all these years.

But that hadn't been what she'd intended. Not ever. She'd been hiding from _herself_, not him.

Regardless of the whys, though, the outcome was that her stubborn refusal to openly love Draco back had led them to this point where he was about to do something to her they'd both regret, simply because his internal anguish was out of control and he wanted to punish them both. What could she do to stop this madness? Obviously, she couldn't overpower him. And she'd left her wand up in her room, not thinking she'd need it.

There was one option left that she hadn't tried yet… Letting all her muscles go lax, she shut her eyelids and kissed him back, hoping that by being submissive and gentle, he would give in as well. He shook his head against her knowingly, though. "Don't even _think_ about closing your eyes and enjoying this," Draco demanded harshly. "I won't let you pretend I'm your spotted husband having it a little rough with you." He grabbed her wrists tighter and gave her a little shake. "Look at me!" he roared.

Hermione opened her eyes again and stared up at him, saddened by his need to destroy what they had in a fit of rage, wanting to tell him that it was all going to be okay if he would just stop here, before it was too late. She opened her mouth, tried to speak, but there was no sound. If only she could counter his hex! But a Silencing spell was one of the few curses that could not be lifted non-verbally. Helpless and powerless, all she could do was cry, to try to make him see how very sorry she was that she'd hurt him.

Turning his attention to the rest of her clothes, Draco ignored her unvoiced pleas, instead tearing her knickers up next, pulling and yanking until the fabric split apart on one side. He pushed the scrap aside, giving him full access to her core. She fervently shook her head, tried to think of a way out of this, even as Draco's hand moved to the waist of his pajamas and pulled them down, exposing his manhood. He wasn't even erect, obviously not enjoying what he was doing to her one bit, but determined to go through with it anyway.

Mouthing words, she tried to get him to look at her: _I'm sorry. I don't love Ron. We're getting a divorce. I love you! Don't do this!_

He wouldn't look her in the eye, focusing instead on making her ready for his intrusion. He licked his fingers and brought them down between her dry slit, opening her up and thrusting into her opening. It hurt because she wasn't lubricated. He suckled her left breast again, teasing the nipple, trying to urge her cooperation. The things he was doing to her, they terrified her, but to her great mortification, her body was beginning to respond.

She'd read about this - how a female's natural biologic reaction to knowing she was going to be penetrated was to release secretions, to prevent internal tearing and protect the birth canal from damage. It was supposedly extremely difficult to stop this from happening, even knowing that the sex would not be consensual. Suddenly, Hermione understood firsthand how it was possible to become aroused without wanting to be – and how disgusted she felt with herself as a result.

She shook her head back and forth in denial, bucking her pelvis up to dislodge Draco's center of gravity and tump him over, but he remained steadfastly in place, his greater bulk keeping her pinned down. Soundlessly, she screamed. After long minutes, he stopped forcing his fingers into her, pulling them out. She looked up at him, watched him smear her juices all over the tip of his now half-erect penis. He looked down at her as he shoved her thighs apart and mounted her.

_Stop, please! I love you, _she mouthed, quaking in panicked dread.

His eyes narrowed again. "You love me, huh?" he asked bitingly, pushing his big body between her folds, the crown of his cock penetrating her entrance. "Funny, I thought I felt the same thing for you." He inched his way inside her and stopped before he was half the way sheathed. "But then I saw you swapping spit with that speckled husband of yours, and I got over it." He thrust his hips forward and slammed home, jamming the tip of his length against her cervix, causing a momentary, sharp stinging pain.

Hermione shut her eyes in grief – both emotional and physical – while her lover proceeded to rut away inside her body without kindness or caring, using her as nothing more than a hole to fill up with his anger. She tried to hide herself in a corner of her brain, away from what was happening to her, but Draco wouldn't let her. He kissed her again hard, drawing her attention back to what he was doing to her. "I told you," he spit angrily against her cheek. "Don't. Shut. Your. Eyes." He punctuated each word with a cruel, brutal thrust. "I want you to know this is me fucking you, Weasley."

Turning her head to the side, tired and ill, Hermione stared at the wall through her tears, waiting for it to be over, a part of her wondering if she didn't deserve this. What goes around comes around, right? She'd been manipulative and deceitful to get Ron initially, then she'd snuck around and had an affair on him with Draco, and now that same ruthless amorality had come back upon her a thousand fold.

"I think I want to hear you curse me out," her lover rasped in her ear, shoving himself into her faster. "_Finite Incantatum._"

As soon as she was released from her magical oratory prison, Hermione turned her head back to Draco. She made absolutely no noise – not a moan, not a keening cry, not even a sniffle, too much in shock to react. Instead, she passively watched him peak his orgasm, heard him cry out against her neck, felt his hot seed pour into her body once more, and after, waited for his heart to stop pounding and for his breathing to return to normal before the will to use her voice finally returned.

"We agreed to a divorce," she whispered.

He froze between one breath and the next.

"I told him that first night I arrived at The Burrow that I wanted out of the marriage and he finally conceded." It hurt to speak even that much; her throat felt like raw meat, as if she'd really been screaming for a long time.

Draco pulled his face away from her neck to stare down at her in confusion. "I _saw_ you," he insisted, shaking his head in rebuff. "Through the earrings. They're charmed." He pulled his hair away from his right earlobe, showing off a matching sapphire stud winking against his pale flesh. "I had them made for us, for when we're apart." His anger was returning slowly. He leaned his weight heavily on her, pressing his face down until they were eye to eye. "All I had to do was focus and there you were in my mind." He sneered nastily. "How surprised was I when I caught the images of you and your ginger-haired boy-toy holding hands and playing about like you were having the cock-sucking time of your life? As if you weren't having an affair – _weren't fucking_ _me_ - behind his back." He left it unsaid, but Hermione could almost hear the accusation he really wanted to speak: _"Like I didn't mean anything to you_." Draco shuttered his eyes in obvious pain. "Do you know how hard it was to close my goddamned head off every night when I watched you crawl into bed together?" He was shaking again in fury, but when his lids opened, there was grief in the stormy orbital depths as well. "Do you want to know the real kick, Hermione? Even knowing what you were doing with _him_, I sat in that museum of a home my parents live in and wished _every__fucking__day_that I were with you instead. I wanted the woman who was using me as nothing better than a temporary amusement more than I wanted my own family. How pathetic is that?" He grit his teeth. "So don't condescend to lie to me anymore. I'm at my end with you."

She shook her head firmly, staring to feel the aches throughout her abused body with each motion. "You saw what you wanted to see, not the truth, Draco." She tried to push him off, so her breath wouldn't be so squeezed. "After we agreed our marriage was over, Ron and I… we decided we would be friends again… like in school." Her throat felt nettled, and her ribs hurt from the pressure of him practically squashing her. She pushed back again. "It was fun… to pal around… but it was nothing more than that! It was innocent! And I… I slept in the same bed with him because it was the only place available… the other family members… _let up, will you?_… they occupied every other bed and couch. We never did anything sexual, Draco!"

He barked a bitter laugh and raised himself only slightly, enough to keep her chest from collapsing under his weight. "You _kissed_ him, baby. That morning you floo'd back to Hogwarts. Your fucking tongues were practically shoved down each other's throats."

Hermione blinked a tear away. It streamed down her cheek, landing in her ear. "That was… a final goodbye. And there was absolutely _no_ tongue, so stop saying something so horrible!" She sniffled, feeling years older suddenly. "Ron and I were together for eight years… and I'd loved him since the end of our First Year in school." More tears fell, trailing hotly down her skin as she continued to try to dislodge him. "No matter what we've done to each other in all that time… I can't hate him. And there was absolutely no reason to be cruel, either. He… he simply asked me for a kiss goodbye when I was preparing to leave… so I gave him his last request. It didn't mean anything else to me!"

Draco seemed torn, his arctic gaze filled with doubt and the first stirrings of real regret. "You're lying."

She looked him dead in the eye. "No, I'm not!" She removed her wrists from his loosened grip and shoved on his shoulders. "I wanted to be with you. I knew even before I left your bed that morning that I wanted you more than I wanted Ron, or my friends, or my job. _I _asked for the divorce, because I wanted _you_." Salty wet tracks trailed like rivulets down her temples now and her shaking returned full force. "But I can't trust you anymore, Draco. Not after what you just did to me. You used me like trash to make yourself feel better and to punish me for something that _you_ mistakenly misinterpreted. You should have just talked to me." She choked on a sob. "I know I may have… deserved _something_… for lying to Ron years ago, and for having an affair on him with you, but… I didn't deserve _this_. I've never deserved such hatred." She shoved hard again on his shoulders, feeling her hard fought control slipping away finally. The pain in her heart – this time not physical, but emotional - was suddenly unbearable. "Let me up, you bastard! I can't stand the sight of you anymore!"

Numbly, Draco unresistingly pulled out of her, letting himself be pushed onto the edge of the bed as she fumbled to get up and right her clothes. With trembling fingers, she realized she couldn't close her shirt, and she was too shook up to attempt magic just then, so instead, she wrapped her robes around her front to hide the evidence of her assault, and pulled her skirt back into place. Collecting her heels from where they'd dropped to the floor off her feet, she ran to the door and tried to open it. It was locked fast. "Open it," she demanded on the verge of hysterics as the shock started melting away, and adrenaline kicked in. "Let me out!"

The door suddenly gave and she pulled it open, and then ran down the hall and back up the stairs, flying as fast as her small feet could move. She didn't stop until she got to her door, which she hastily opened with a key instead of magic. Once inside, she shut the door, threw her cloak and things on the floor, and began shucking her clothes, heading for her attached bath. She jumped under the shower almost immediately, ignoring the cool water that traumatized her overheated body at first. Scrubbing until her golden skin pinked, she stood under the now hot spray, leaning against the tile wall and let the suds rinse away her shame, crying her heart out.

**X~~~~~X**

**Late January, 2007**

Avoiding Draco for the last three and a half weeks was easy, since he evaded every opportunity to see her. His meal schedule had changed, so he irregularly took food in the Great Hall with the others anymore. He'd turned all Slytherin Head of Household duties permanently over to Theodore Nott. And he sat at the back of the room during staff meetings, out of the line of her sight whenever possible. He was careful to stay in the dungeons, avoiding walking the corridors of the castle as much as possible, too, she noted. They'd only recognized each other twice in all that time, connecting gazes, and both opportunities passed with Draco sliding his gaze in shame to the side and her hurrying past him, trying not to cry.

By then, there were two other pressing matters that interrupted her life as well.

The first was that her divorce papers had been signed by both she and Ron, and sent to the General Registration Office at the Ministry for official filing on January 15th. After a thirty-day mandatory cooling off period to make sure both parties were sure that they would not seek to have the papers revoked, she was sent an official notice by the G.R.O. that the divorce was set to be filed for public record on February 14th at noon – St. Valentine's Day, of all the ironies.

The second was that she learned she was pregnant. Almost three months. She would officially be into her second trimester on February 5th. There was no question whatsoever as to whom the father was, as she'd only been with one man lately for any of it to count.

It would seem, Hermione thought with some sense of dark irony, that Aurora Sinistra's Arithmatical formulas for divining Hermione's future probabilities had been accurate so far. And would be so again in early August, when her baby was due. Of course, she kept her pregnancy a secret, not wanting anyone – especially Draco – to know. The only person with whom she shared the truth was Minerva McGonagall over private tea one afternoon in her office.

"Whatever will you do, dear?" her most trusted and respected confidant asked, putting her delicate porcelain cup down on its matching saucer.

Hermione stared into her cup, wishing for the only time in her life that she'd actually believed in Divination through tea readings. At least then she'd have a solid idea as to the right course of action. "I'll continue to teach until school lets out, of course," she reassured her friend and employer. "That will give you time to find my replacement."

Minerva blinked owlishly in surprise at her, and tilted her head, looking over her spectacles. "And why would I need to replace you, Hermione? You're an outstanding educator."

Hermione looked up quickly in confusion. "But I thought… It was a clear ethics violation having an affair with a fellow co-worker – especially while still married. And then there's the scandal. The press is going to have a field day if they catch wind of any of the truth. I wouldn't want Hogwarts to receive any negative consequences from my irresponsible actions."

"Pish posh!" McGonagall pronounced with gusto. "You don't actually believe that in its entire respectable history, this institution hasn't seen its share of secret liaisons between staff members before? Why, how do you think I met my husband of forty-three years, rest his soul? We worked together here just fine for all that time." A small twinkle gleamed in her eye. "As for any outside gossip, no one need know who the father of your child is unless you decide to speak up. And I've heard that single-witchhood is quite in the vogue right now." Her former professor narrowed her eyes in thought. "Perhaps a twelve month sabbatical – for research purposes – could explain away the presence of a son or daughter in your life? You could begin at the close of school in June. Poppy knows ways to hide your pregnancy between now and then."

Hermione was flabbergasted. "A spell to hide pregnancy? Is it some sort of Glamour Charm? I've never even heard of that before!"

The grandmotherly figure sitting on the other side of the desk from her smiled tightly. "It's an oldie, but goodie. And this _is_ a co-ed school, after all. We've certainly had our share of young girls getting into trouble from time to time here. "

This _was_ news! Hermione gaped, scandalized to abruptly realize that _Hogwarts: A History_ had been seriously edited to remove any real-life, daily tragedies. It made her doubt the legitimacy of the entire series of volumes as a result. Talk about nerve-wracking. Although, with deeper consideration, perhaps that was a good thing as well, as it protected the identities of those who had made poor decisions, so that others – such as their families, and the children conceived – would not be harmed.

The Headmistress tapped one neatly trimmed fingernail on the wooden desk before her. "I admit that I was most definitely intrigued with your research over at the Ministry a few years back, and have been seriously considering adding the subject of Magical Law to the curriculum for those seeking a career in that field. Perhaps, after your year-long research efforts, you might present to the Board of Regents a comprehensive, well-tailored lesson plan – including a series of recommended texts - for teaching this subject at Hogwarts to Fifth Years and up? And of course, should you also wish to split your schedule, you'd be more than welcome to take back your post as Charms Mistress, which I would assume in your absence."

Tears filled Hermione's eyes, spilling over. She'd really believed that her career in teaching – a job she'd once only taken with great reservation, but now adored and wanted to continue to pursue - were over. Minerva's offering was beyond generous. "Thank you _so much_," she gratefully accepted. "I won't let you down."

Minerva smiled fondly at her. "No, dear, I know you won't." She picked her tea cup back up, pinky extending automatically over the handle. "Now, do tell me… woman to woman… are you truly in love with our handsome, young Mr. Malfoy?"

Hermione blushed to the very roots of her hair, looking down into her teacup again, as if hoping the correct answers would simply leap out from the depths of its fire-glazed base and into her fumbling mouth.

Smiling knowingly, Minerva took a refined sip of her drink. "Well, well. However in the world did such a thing happen?"

**X~~~~~X**

**Mid February, 2007**

The nausea hadn't stopped completely at night, but fortunately, Hermione had been careful to take the potions Madam Pomfrey had proscribed for her in the mornings, so she had relatively vomit-free days. This allowed her to function normally, and she was thankful for that small boon, because it allowed her to focus on her day-to-day obligations, and for a little while, to forget her sadness.

She still had no closure with Draco about the fight they'd had, which was causing a lingering resentment. Now she was beginning to wonder if she should even bother alerting him to his impending fatherhood or not. He hadn't seemed interested in apologizing to her, nor in pursuing their relationship. Maybe they really were, indeed, over and she just hadn't wanted to admit the truth that lay so glaringly before her.

At dinner on Tuesday, the 14th, a G.R.O. owl – a beautiful Magellanic Horned – swooped down into the dining hall and deposited a document tube in front of Hermione. Everyone at the teacher's table stopped and looked over at her in curiosity, to see what it was that the Ministry would send to her at this particular time of the day, as most correspondence was delivered during the morning hours. Presenting the bird a piece of her roll for a treat and sending it on its way, she held the tube in her hands, not moving to open it in front of everyone. She knew the roll contained copies of her divorce papers that had been filed that morning, but this was a private matter and she didn't want to embarrass herself or Ron publicly with their failed – now finalized – marriage. She put the tube down, finished her meal, and then excused herself before dessert to return to her room.

Reading the documents thoroughly (to assure there were no mistakes which could possibly alter or reverse the divorce proceedings), it wasn't until she reached the end, and assured all required signatures were present that she let out the breath she'd unconsciously been holding. It was done. She was finally free.

This also meant that her last name had officially changed back to her maiden name. She'd have to make the corrections to her students and the staff on the morrow. She wanted this part of her life over, and the sooner she recognized that she was 'Granger' again, the quicker that transition could occur.

She retired early that night, nervous about her morning announcement.

**X~~~~~X**

Draco was not present at breakfast when she quietly addressed the staff table with her news. Not knowing the circumstances behind the divorce (as she did not elaborate, obviously), she received a fair number of condolences from most of her co-workers over the ending of her marriage (Hagrid even began bawling, and she ended up having to comfort him, explaining that it had been an agreeable dissolution, and that she and Ron would continue to be friends; it took the better part of twenty minutes to calm the half-giant down). She then approached Minerva and asked her permission to inform her students of the name change starting that day, and she received it from the Headmistress, who seemed to intuitively understand that Hermione needed to do this immediately.

The surprising reaction came from Theodore Nott, who simply glared at her before returning to his meal. The man, it seemed, either had no idea what had transpired a few weeks back between she and his best friend (and in that case, he was simply showing Draco solidarity in his dislike of Hermione), or he knew and didn't care (which would be a shocking, but not exactly unexpected reaction, as Nott had never once given her any indication that he actually cared a whit about her). The former explanation could be forgiven, but the latter…

She hoped Theodore didn't twist this episode around when he finally conveyed the news to Draco later, as she expected he would.

**X~~~~~X**

It was Friday night, the 16th, and Hermione was once more in the library. This time, she was preliminarily researching Magical Law in an effort to get ahead of McGonagall's offer. It gave her something to do outside of her room for a few hours, which kept her from thinking about her pregnancy and how she planned to handle it – and the father.

As if compelled by the thought, she reached for the one book that didn't fit with the theme of the evening, and after skimming the table of contents, she opened it to a specific chapter: "How Your Baby Is Growing: 15 Weeks." There was a picture of a tiny baby hanging upside down. The text explained that her child was approximately four inches now, and that it could probably sense light, even though its eyelids were still fused shut. The nosebleed and fluttering in her stomach that she'd experienced this morning was explained as a normal side effect at this stage, although at the time, Hermione had been sure it was just nerves. As she read on, she grew excited: this was the first week she'd be able to tell the sex of the child! Shutting the book, she put it in her satchel, flip-flopping on the idea of going to see Poppy soon to ask for a gender check. Did she want to know, or keep it a surprise, though?

Lost for a moment in the thoughts of how she'd feel about first a boy, then a girl, she didn't hear Draco approach from behind until he was already leaning his hip against the table, arms crossed, staring down at her impassively.

"Its official then?" he asked, getting right to the point, his tone neutral. "You're divorced."

Hermione shrugged, and began collecting her small pile of books, slipping them one at a time inside her dragon hide briefcase, careful not to let Draco see the text already contained therein. "Obviously, since I'm going with my maiden name now." Had that sounded too gruff? She wasn't sure, as her ears had begun ringing as her blood pressure jumped.

Pushing her chair out, she grabbed her attaché and headed out without another word, her heart pounding away madly in her chest. She wasn't ready for a confrontation with him, especially one he'd initiated without an apology of any kind for starters.

She made all the way into her private quarters and had begun to shut the door behind her when Draco's pale hand shot out and prevented it from closing. She looked up into his enigmatic features with sincere trepidation.

"We need to talk. Privately," he stated resolutely. "Can I come in?"

Closing her eyes, Hermione took a deep breath and shook her head. She would not let their relationship be always on his terms. Draco had always gotten what he wanted, thanks to his overindulgent parents, the spoiled git. It was time he learned to respect her. "No. Not until _I'm_ ready to have this conversation with you, Malfoy." She opened her lids and stared him down, speaking firmly. "Good night." With that, she shut the door in his face, locking it and waited until she heard his footsteps retreat before getting ready for bed.

Taking Minerva's advice to not give in so easily had been harder than she'd imagine it would be.

**X~~~~~X**

**Mid March, 2007**

Now a month into her second trimester, Hermione's dreams had begun to take on a decidedly erotic twist that often left her panting and wanting in the darkened hours before sunrise. Every morning, she woke up frustrated, craving desperately to act out her subconscious musings with Draco, especially when she'd spy him in the halls or at the dining table, where he began frequenting more regularly now.

Unfortunately, a new problem cropped up: Helen Merrythought. The attractive, unattached, late twenty-something, blonde beauty seemed to constantly be hanging off Malfoy's every word, seated ever at his side when the opportunity presented itself. And Draco didn't seem in the least bit inclined to discourage the woman's attentions. In fact, just within the last few days, he'd actually seemed more relaxed and friendly around the D.A.D.A. professor, lazily gracing her with his award-winning, heart-stopping smile. It made Hermione unhappy and worried. Had she waited too long to find resolution with him? Had he finally moved on, simply tired of her unrelenting attitude?

She'd wanted him to stop pushing himself on her. Well, now she'd gotten what she'd asked for – only _this_ wasn't what she'd fancied at all.

Merlin, she was such an idiot.

**X~~~~~X**

One afternoon, a few days after watching Helen practically throw herself onto Draco's lap at dinner, Hermione woke up in the hospital ward, feeling groggy and out of sorts. "What happened?" she asked, blinking her eyes several times in confusion.

Poppy Pomfrey looked down at her, extremely concerned. "You had a fainting spell, dear," the elderly medi-witch explained. "But luckily, someone came along at just the right moment and caught you before you hit ground."

Frowning, Hermione tried to remember any of it. She'd been on her way to her room, and then there was nothing but red hair and strong arms and blue-green eyes… She looked past Poppy to spy her ex-husband sitting in a chair nearby. The look he returned was very telling: he knew she was pregnant, and he knew it couldn't possibly be his.

Checking her for injuries one last time, Poppy ordered her to drink her potions and to get more rest, and promised to discharge her later that afternoon, after her visitor had gone. With that, the nurse hurried away, leaving Hermione alone with a man she knew was going to ask some seriously difficult questions. She sighed heavily and sat up, pulling the woolen blankets over her chest modestly.

After more than a minute of silence between them, Hermione couldn't take the anxiety any longer. "Nineteen weeks," she finally told him, getting to the heart of the matter. "She's four months and three weeks now."

Ron blinked, looked down at his hands, recognizing what this meant. "Can I ask who the da is?"

Hermione stared down at her fingers clutching the covers. "I'd… rather not say. He doesn't know yet. I'm not sure I want to tell him, honestly. It's… complicated."

Ron ran a hand through his long, fiery bangs and sat back heavily in his chair. "Is this why you wanted the divorce?"

She tilted her head as if to say 'sort of,' and a curl dislodged itself from the tangled mass on her head, falling into her eyes. She pushed it back with shaky fingers. "Honestly, my feelings for you haven't been the same since finding out about your affair with Lavender the first time." Here she looked up into Ron's face sadly. "That is to say, I hadn't planned to have an affair on you, but it happened… and I fell in love with him." She took another deep breath. "So, yes, I wanted the divorce because I wanted to be with him. And also because… it was time, Ron. Even if he hadn't been in the picture, Lavender between us was enough. I think you knew that, too."

Ron said nothing for a long while, looking out the nearby window blankly, lost in thought. Finally, he simply nodded. "I'm sorry," he finally stated. "For screwing us up."

Hermione held her hand out tentatively. He looked at it, then got up and crossed the half meter to her cot and sat on the edge, taking her small hand in both of his. "I'm sorry, too. But, I don't regret us at all. You were my first, Ron. You'll always be special in my heart."

Hesitantly, Ron reached out and stroked her stomach. "Not the first for everything, 'Mione." He seemed particularly sad, a pained, regret-filled expression curling his full lips downwards and dulling his eyes.

Placing her free hand over his, she entwined their fingers in a gesture meant to convey understanding and comfort. "All except this, true," she whispered.

"You said 'she'," he pointed out suddenly. "So, it's a girl?"

She nodded, pleased as punch. "Poppy confirmed it last week for me."

A small smile turned his frown around. "A little girl… Think I want a few myself, someday. I grew up in a home of pretty much all boys. Well, you know that already." He looked up and their locked eyes. "So, you're not going to tell the father, then? Why not?" He blushed, tripping over himself in apologetic correction as he realized how personally probing he was being. "I mean, you don't have to tell me, if you don't want. I'm just curious, is all."

Hermione bit her lip and looked down at their locked hands. "We're… not together anymore."

Ron's chivalric side came bristling to the front suddenly. True to character, he stiffened in offended protectionism. "Did he dump you because you were pregnant? Do you want me to beat his arse, 'Mione? Cause I'll do it for you, if you want."

Huffing in amused thanks, she shook her head. "No, we broke up for other reasons." She didn't want Ron to know that Draco's insane jealousy over her relationship with her ex-husband was at the heart of the disagreement. That would only make Ron feel badly, and none of this was his fault. Besides, it was her stubborn unwillingness to talk to Draco that kept him at bay. And now there was Helen in the picture… She hadn't realized how much this hurt to talk about aloud until tears wavered in her eyes. She wiped them back and tried to cover for her embarrassing moment of weakness with a fib. "Stupid pregnancy hormones," she murmured with a shaky, faux grin.

Ron wasn't buying it for a minute. He may not have been the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but he wasn't a complete moron. And they'd been friends for sixteen years, as of this coming September. He'd picked up on her inability to tell a really convincing lie a long time ago. Stroking a thumb over her cheek, he helped wipe her tears aside. "Well, whoever he is, your baby's sure to have your ugly hair and bossy attitude."

She couldn't help but laugh as he pulled out his best method for cheering her – acting the prat. She swiped at his hand with a friendly smack. "Git."

Ron shrugged, "You married me," he accused with a grin. "What's that say 'bout you?"

They shared a laugh. "So, really, why are you here today?" Hermione asked him, wanting to get to the purpose for his initial visit.

Ron blushed and looked down. "Can't a guy want to see how his ex- is doing?" His fingers, still holding hers, tightened slightly in her grip and his thumb began caressing the sensitive skin between her thumb and index finger. The intimate touch made things in Hermione's gut clench in response, and she felt her own face heat up. "Just wanted to know you were okay."

Slowly, trying not to hurt his feelings, but needing to make it clear that such touching was no longer allowed between them, Hermione withdrew her hand from his. "That was thoughtful of you. I'm fine now, as you can see."

Ron was a little stung by her rejection, she could tell, but he recovered quickly, trying to mask his discomfort, bullying onwards with what, she assumed, had been his plans all along. "Yeah, well… feeling good enough to have lunch with me?"

She blinked. Had Ron just asked her out?

"Nothing serious," he tried to ease her growing concerns. "Just as friends. You know, fer old time's sake. We could sit at Gryffindor's table, if you wanted."

She considered it. If they took lunch publicly together after having announced their dissolution of their marriage just a month earlier, it might look bad. And if Draco saw…

Stopping that train of thought, she really measured her situation carefully. Draco and she were clearly through. They hadn't spoken a word to each other since January (aside from that one small confrontation they'd had outside her bedroom door last month). And he was obviously seeing Helen Merrythought now (or if he wasn't, _she_ certainly appeared to think they had a future of some kind together – an idea he didn't seem to be dissuading). And really, what would having lunch with one of her best friends harm? Perhaps if everyone saw that she and Ron were still on good terms, they wouldn't be so weirded out by the idea that the 'Golden Duo' had broken up (oh, the hate mail she'd received since the announcement was made public in the newspaper last month, with old fashioned, nosey conservatives letting her know how disappointed they were that she'd disrespected the institution of marriage – as if she was responsible alone for her relationship failing!).

"Sure, let's do that," she agreed, patting the back of his hand friendly-like. "Just friends. It'll be fun to pretend we're kids again… even if only for an hour or two."

**X~~~~~X**

That Saturday night, on Saint Patrick's Day, she ran smack into Draco – literally. They'd both turned a corner too quickly, heading in opposite directions, and before she'd realized whose hands had firmly gripped her upper arms to keep her from falling back, she'd grabbed onto him to steady herself, her hands on his shoulders. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" she quickly apologized, then looked up to offer an excuse.

Instantly, both she and Draco froze when they recognized the other.

For the space of a dozen heartbeats they stared at each other, neither offering a word, still clinging as if they were the other's lifeline. Slowly, hesitantly, he let her go, dropping his hands and taking a step back. She had no choice but to follow suit.

Feeling her face flush with blood, she looked down at the buttons on his shirt, where it was safest. "Sorry," she offered again and started to step around him to continue on her way, mortified and wanting to hide herself in a hole in that moment. Draco stepped directly into her path, however. Obviously, he wanted a confrontation.

"You ready to have that conversation yet?" he muttered, his tone mildly agitated. "Or are we going to keep up this dance?"

She stiffened, not liking his arrogant tone. "I was under the impression that you'd already gotten yourself a new partner," she grit back, straightening her spine and staring him in the eye, her ire making her reckless. "Helen certainly seems more than willing to take you on a spin or two."

Draco blinked, and then had the audacity to smirk. "She's indicated that's what she wants, yes," he commented dryly. "Does that bother you?"

Hermione sniffed, feeling her irritation unwisely take control of her mouth. "Not at all. I'm sure she's perfectly capable of… of… Salsa-ing around the floor with you. She certainly wears the right lip shade for the job."

That last jab wasn't really fair, and rather stereotypical, Hermione knew. That Merrythought had been wearing a bright red lip paint lately - the color any woman with any sense knew was worn when she wanted to attract a man's attentions to her lips (thereby suggesting all the ways she planned to use that mouth on him as soon as given the chance) – was an old, tired cliché. And yet, she got the distinct impression that this was exactly what Helen had in mind when wearing the makeup. She certainly hadn't been wearing such an enticing color prior to last month, anyway.

Her ex-lover chuckled amusedly. "Jealous much?" he taunted, stepping into her private space.

Hermione took a step back and tried to swerve around him again, to no avail, as he countered smoothly. She still refused to look him in the eye, knowing she'd catch nothing but smug arrogance in his countenance. He was pushing for this show-down, so she'd give it to him – right here in the middle of the first floor D.A.D.A. corridor! "Does it matter? You made it clear how you felt about me two months ago. I'm nothing to you."

She stepped again to the side, and this time, Draco grabbed her upper shoulders tightly and stopped her, then he backed her into the wall. "You've always meant something special to me, Hermione," he stated firmly. "_Always._ Even back in our school days." Her breathing tried to catch up with her suddenly rabbitting heart rate as he bent his head to her ear and his hand dropped to her belly, pressing lightly upon her obviously swelling abdomen. "So, she's mine?" His voice was a warm purr against her pulse, and Hermione began shaking all over. How had he known? She'd gone back to wearing frumpy clothes lately in an effort to hide the small swell that had begun to show. No one should have been able to tell, though.

"How did you find out?" she asked anxiously.

Draco's mouth swept up her ear and down to her lobe. "When I'd heard you were in the hospital a couple of days ago, I went to see you… only to find the Weasel King at your side already. Your conversation was quite enlightening."

"You had no right to eavesdrop!" she hissed in rising fury. She hadn't been sure if she'd even wanted to tell Draco. Now he had the means to make her life truly miserable, if he wanted. He could even petition the Ministry for full custody later, and given his financial status, and his family's renewed reputation (after numerous generous 'donations' to various highly publicized charity events over the last few years), he just might be able to pull off a solid enough case to win.

His hand stroked her tummy gently, though, and when he pulled back and looked down at what his fingers were doing, there was a small smile on his shapely lips. He didn't seem as if he wanted to hurt her. "Funny, I always thought I'd have a son first… but this is better, I think."

Hermione put her hand over his to stop him. His touch was inflaming her, bringing all of those erotic dreams back to the forefront of her mind, causing her body to react, giving her hope. "Why do you care?"

Draco locked eyes with her then and she felt her breath catch. "Why wouldn't I?" he huskily asked, pressing his body against hers, aligning them just right so that their legs touched, so she could feel his definite erection against her belly, where his hand had recently stroked.

"You hurt me badly," she accused, shoving her traitorous thoughts to the back of her mind and focusing on the issue at hand, trying to hold onto her sense and her anger, trying not to give in to what her heart and body really wanted. "And I don't think I'm ready to forgive you for it yet."

His hands came up on either side of her, caging her between, and he leaned his face forwards, pressing his mouth to hers. "I know, and me either." With that, he kissed her. It was a sweet, tender pull of lips, tantalizing, coaxing… loving. After several passes in which she was only a hesitant participant, he pushed back a bit and stared down at her. "Come to my room and let me show you how much I'm sorry. Let me try to make it right."

Gods, how she wanted to! But she was afraid - not just for herself, but for her child's future. She wasn't sure she could trust Draco anymore. She didn't know how he felt about her, and he'd never indicated that he wanted anything more than sex from her from the start. What if she gave in and then he decided later that he didn't want her, or their baby? She would be devastated and her little girl's heart would be broken. She had to know his true feelings before things went any further, and it would take more than words to win back her faith in him, especially after how he'd abused her so.

"I… don't think that's a good idea," she tremulously countered. "If… if you want us to try again, we need to take things slow." She rubbed her hand across her abdomen. "I don't think I could take it if you decided later that that you didn't want us."

Draco's right hand captured her left cheek, forcing her to look him in the eye again. "I've always wanted you, Granger," he admitted resignedly, his gaze completely open and honest for once. "And I want her now, too," he indicated with a glance at her belly. "I want you both."

Hermione shut her eyes, reminding herself that it was important to do things right this time around. They'd already mucked up so much. "Then… we need to start over." She opened her lids and stared earnestly back at him. "To earn each other's trust. For her sake and ours."

He was quiet for half a minute, weighing her words. Finally, he nodded. "Okay, however you want."

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Hermione grabbed a hold of his hand and took it in both of hers. "How about lunch tomorrow? Just us."

He acquiesced to her request with a nod, and they made plans to have their first official date.

**X~~~~~X**

**Early April, 2007**

She and Draco had been officially a seeing each other – out in the open finally – for the last three weeks. In that time, they'd gone on six dates (their first at Madam Puddifoots for tea and finger sandwiches; their second a formal dinner in Diagon Alley at a new restaurant that had opened up a few years back; their third a casual picnic at her desk in the Charms Fourth and Fifth Year classroom; their fourth a romantic evening in front of the fireplace in her room munching down on a special meal Draco had requested the kitchen elves to prepare in advance for them; their fifth together in the empty Great Hall for a late breakfast on a Hogsmeade Saturday when all of the students had already finished their meal and were gone; their sixth in his office in the dungeons, sharing his desk). In that time, they'd spent long hours talking, learning about each other in ways they had never before considered. Their sexual relationship had slowly advanced to the point where they were comfortable with kisses, hand holding, intense snog sessions, and even, this last time, the removal of her blouse and bra for his mouth and hands to caress her.

For his part, Draco seemed content to take things as slowly as Hermione. Something had changed between them since January, and the rushed passion they'd previously shared had been toned down in favor of a slow, sensual relearning. And what Hermione was discovering was that the man Draco Malfoy was deep inside was complex and compelling. He ran hot and cold in equal measures, capable of compartmentalizing his feelings whenever necessary (a legacy of his Pureblood Slytherin upbringing, no doubt). His mind worked through to the heart of a problem amazingly fast, coming up with solutions (or witty and/or scathing comebacks, whatever the situation required) on the zip. Unfortunately, he also played politics and people well enough to know what buttons to push, and to adjust the pressure enough to achieve the desired results. At times, such underhanded tactics bothered her, even when she recognized their immeasurable usefulness (such as at the last Board of Regents meeting, when there had been the discussion of permanently replacing Hermione with an outside consultant when she went on sabbatical in June, instead of allowing McGonagall to teach the post for the next year, as had been previously discussed; when they'd opened the floor up for discussion, Draco had stood first and addressed the issue of the increased budget to accommodate a new Charms Professor's salary - which would ultimately mean a reduction in the Regents' year-end bonuses - and the matter had been summarily tabled _ad infinitum_).

Despite the occasional disagreement, the two had come to recognize that they worked rather spectacularly together, especially on lesson planning. Their vast knowledge of the subjects in question – Charms and Potions – as well as their natural aptitudes towards such magic, allowed them to piece together some rather creative and fun cooperative class projects (such as attempting to create a liquid version of the Weasley Patented Daydream Charm, and reverse engineering _Felix Felicis_ into a spell that could be cast by wand instead – both still works in progress). The idea took root amongst the rest of the staff, and very soon, subjects that had previously been seen as stand-alone studies were being combined to offer a comprehensive view on how the various veins of magic were, more often than not, mutually interchangeable. Music and Arithmancy and Divination pooled their talent to attempt to produce a series of mathematical formula for creating universal harmony patterns that could be read to better predict future events. Ancient Runes and D.A.D.A. provided an opportunity for students to research and practice ancient spells that had fallen out of popular use, such as Jocale witchcraftery, which imbued magically cut gems and stones with defensive and offensive spell capabilities through the use of runic magic. Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration helped students to understand how magical beasts evolved some of their more unique physical and biologic attributes, by providing a safe space for creatures to be studied and experimented upon (under the most extreme care and guidance, of course, assuring no animal was harmed in the doing). History of Magic and Muggle Studies set out to prove that many of the strangest inventions non-magical folk had produced over the years had, in fact, been co-opted and refined by wizards and witches to actually work, and the beginning construction of a working DaVinci Ornithopter had excited the whole school, not to mention the Ministry and the press (in fact, Professor Binns had grabbed onto the idea with a gusto none of them had ever seen, nor expected, from the dry, boring man… he was now frequently seen smiling – the first time ever in the history of the school - as he rushed about overseeing the project). Overall, Hermione's evolving relationship with Draco had brought about a revolution outside, and it was quite exciting to see that their influence had touched so many in so positive a way.

By this time, Hermione was into her twenty-third week of pregnancy, and she was definitely showing now. Her back and feet had also begun aching as her center of gravity shifted to accommodate the weight gain, so Poppy had proscribed a potion that would not harm the baby, but would alleviate her minor pain. She took to wearing full black robes now to help cover the obvious bulge, even though Poppy's spell to disillusion the 'bump' (more like melon ball, by then) and to glamour her features (to hide her swelling ankles and puffier face) worked well enough that no one could even tell that Hermione was pregnant. Only she, the medi-witch, Minerva, Draco and Ron (and quite possibly, by association, Harry and the Weasley clan) knew she was carrying.

Her nausea was completely gone, thankfully, and she hadn't fainted again since that one time, so she felt actually quite content, aside from the occasional cramp. Her hair was definitely getting longer and softer as she continued on the vitamin regime Madam Pomfrey had also proscribed, and she had taken to humming to her baby regularly when alone, stroking her stomach while doing so. It was a soothing gesture that, more often than not, would put her to sleep at night rather quickly.

**X~~~~~X**

**Mid April, 2007**

It was Sunday, April 16th when Hermione first felt her baby kick. With fortune smiling on them, Draco had been rubbing her tummy at just that same moment, working his way up towards her exposed breast, so he felt it as well. They stopped their snogging session in surprise, looking at each other with wide eyes and opened mouths.

"Was that…? Did she just kick you?" he asked, blinking in shock.

Hermione was in wonderment. "You felt that, too?" She glanced down at her swelling abdomen with him and they both caressed it at the same time. The baby kicked again. Hermione jumped slightly and groaned at the abrupt, unexpected motion, but then she was smiling up at Draco, and he down at her. "Do that again," she whispered to him, and they both pressed their hands once more over her expanded womb together. As if recognizing the playful motions, their child planted a firm boot to her insides in response. They both laughed in joy, and Hermione started crying, her hormones making her oddly sensitive.

"Apparently, she recognizes us," Draco stated in wonder, shaking his head in disbelief.

Hermione chuckled, wiping at her tears. "Either that, or she didn't like what I ate for lunch earlier."

Leaning over, careful not to press his body against hers, Draco kissed her hungrily, shoving his hand into her curls. It was a powerfully lustful kiss – the first time he'd touched her so in months. After long minutes of lip-locking, his hand roamed over her collar to stroke her left nipple, causing it to peak and harden immediately. The rest of her body responded with a rush of blood through her system. Her knickers grew damp, and unable to resist, she guided his hand away from her breast down her waist, over her hip, to between her legs. Draco caressed her over her clothes and she groaned, wanting more. "Touch me underneath," she whispered against his mouth.

"I'll do you better," he offered, and dropped down between her thighs, dragging the heavy fabric of her skirt up to her hips and shimmying her panties down her legs. His hands slid up her legs, pushing her knees up as he went, opening her up to his hot, wet tongue, which dipped immediately into her folds, lathing her up and down.

"Oh, gods!" she cried out, reaching down between them to grip his feathery, white-blonde hair, encouraging him to continue suckling on her lower lips and clit. "Yes," she hissed in rapture. Long, pale fingers ran up and down the backs of her thighs as he pressed them up and rested her calves on his shoulders. His thumb caressed her opening in circles, dragging her glistening moisture over her sensitive flesh, pressing inside her as he continued to eat her out beautifully. She nearly wept from the provocative emotions rolling through her once more. "I've missed this," she told him in a low, husky voice. "I've missed _you_, Draco."

Against her labia, he groaned in response, and the vibrations arched through her core, bringing her towards her climax fast. She'd been without him for too long, as this first bringing would be quicker than she'd expected.

"Let go, Hermione," he breathed against her skin. "Come for me." He dipped his tongue back in, adding nibbling and nipping now to his repertoire. When two fingers pierced her, splitting her open again after so long, swiping across her sensitive bundle of nerves on the upper inside lip of her vagina, she exploded in pleasurable sensation, wailing Draco's name as an entreaty to Heaven, feeling every muscle inside ripple as electricity stimulated her from core to toes and back up her spine to her brain.

When the energy finally rolled gently away, she lay panting and blissfully relaxed. Draco was still between her legs, licking up her juices. Her fingers rubbed through his soft, straight hair absently as she floated in post-coital glow. When he'd had his fill, he moved back up her body, gently removing her legs from his shoulders and readjusting her skirt. When he reached her breasts, he took each one with his mouth, giving them a sweet suckle and kiss before moving up her collar, across her throat, over her chin and finally fastening on her lips once more. They kissed for ten good minutes or more before coming up for air. He stared down at her, braced on his palms above her, keeping his body from crushing hers.

"Is it too early to tell you I love you?" he asked seriously.

Hermione's fingertips brushed his lips, moved to his jaw, caressed over his cheek. "It's never too early to tell someone that, I think," she murmured truthfully. "As long as you mean it."

He turned his face into her hand and kissed the palm, then looked back at her, his gray eyes forthright and open. "I mean it, Granger," he told her, leaning down towards her face again, staring into her very soul with fire. "You twist me up inside like no one else ever has, but I know I love you, witch. Everything in me wants you. And I mean to make you love me back this time."

She smiled up at him. "I think it's already too late," she admitted, feathering through his hair with her fingertips.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

_**

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__AUTHOR'S NOTES:

__Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Late April, 2007**

The semi-final match of Quidditch was being played the second to last weekend of April: Ravenclaw versus Slytherin. Whoever won would take third place and the loser fourth. The castle was practically empty as a result. Hermione and Draco were sheltered away in his room, however, cuddling together on his couch in front of a warming fire, oblivious to the rest of the world.

"Are you cold?" he asked after she'd shivered against him, and he shifted the comforter more over her. "I could cast an additional warming charm."

Hermione considered her response, knowing what she'd wanted to say to him for weeks, but too nervous to do so. Gathering her courage, she leapt off the proverbial cliff. "You could always warm me up a different way," she murmured into his ear seductively, her small hand traveling down from his abdomen, where it had been resting, to lay over his crotch.

Draco stilled and gently took her hand off his pants. "I don't want to hurt the baby." He kissed her fingertips in apology.

Hermione sat back and looked up into his face, the pieces of a particularly disturbing puzzle clicking in her head suddenly. "Is that why you haven't made any move to get me back in bed?" She grinned. "Do you want to have sex?" she asked, bluntly. "Because I'm quite capable of having sex with you without hurting the baby – even up until the last week, or so Poppy says."

Blinking in surprise, Draco looked at her warily. "Are you sure?"

She nodded firmly. "Quite."

A slow smirk wound up his cheek. "Well, why didn't you say so earlier?" With that, he plunged his hand into her hair and pulled her face to his for a blisteringly hot kiss. Very quickly, they were panting.

"Take me to bed," she begged in between tonguing him.

Draco obliged, pulling her up and removing both of their clothing. He laid her back into his mattress and leaned over her. "Are you okay with this position?" he asked, and she smiled while nodding. His fingers swept down between them to check her readiness – boy, was she _ever_ game! "Merlin almighty, you're soaking wet," he groaned, tipping his head to suckle her right nipple. He pressed the head of him against her opening as she widened her stance to accommodate him. Her hips ached at the unfamiliar pressure, but when he slid into her wet channel, they both moaned loudly in bliss and she forgot all about her momentary hurt.

"Slow," she cautioned, and he nodded in understanding. He proceeded to make love to her with long, full strokes that made her weep, literally, from the beautiful sensations of their coupling. It had been so long – almost five months, and that last time hadn't been good for either of them. This, though, was perfect. He was careful not to press down onto her belly as he leaned over her, whispering sweet, hot descriptions of how it felt for them to be joined again against her lips. She returned the favor, which quickly had him tensing up all of his lower muscles.

"You can go a little faster, if you want," she encouraged, guiding him to the right tempo by thrusting her hips back at him.

"Slytherin's rod," he cursed as he neared his climax, shaking his head. "I feel like a fifteen year old again. I'm not going to last much longer."

He pushed lightly up against her clit on every thrust, and within seconds, her overly sensitized body had started to reach for her orgasm. "A little more," she pled, whimpering in the back of her throat. "Go a little harder, Draco. You won't hurt me."

Giving her what they both wanted, he began pushing a little more roughly into her. It wasn't half as demanding as how they'd been last year when they'd begun their affair, but it was more than enough to do the trick now. Hermione came with a loud cry of her love for Draco, as everything inside exploded in ecstasy, and as red fire burst behind her eyelids. Seconds later, Draco came as well, his lower body pumping in and out of her continually as he gasped out his pleasure and his hot seed shot into her once more.

Exhausted, he almost collapsed on top of her, but caught himself at the last second, pulling out and dropping to the side instead. They held each other, as she turned to face him. When their hearts returned to normal pace and sanity returned, they smiled at each other. He touched her cheek, rubbing his thumb across her lips.

"I love you," she blurted, unable to contain this overwhelming, warm feeling in her heart.

His smile stretched. "I love you, too," he confessed again, and leaned over to kiss her.

After silently _Accio_-ing his wand and magically floating the comforter from the couch over on top of them, Draco turned Hermione onto her other side, and pressed against her back, spooning. They fell asleep like that, him holding her closely, his right arm resting lightly on her belly, his face pressed into her curls.

**X~~~~~X**

**Early May, 2007**

The final Quidditch match of the season was in play: Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor. After Slytherin's win several weeks before, the whole castle was in throes to see which house would walk away with the Cup. Wearing a red and gold scarf and matching hat that Mrs. Weasley had knitted for her for Christmas a few years back, Hermione sat in the teacher's box next to Draco and rooted for her House team enthusiastically.

Thankfully, the box was quite warm, as her lover had charmed it in advance in precaution of her condition (but under the outward pretense that "it's still too blasted cold out for a teacher to be freezing his arse off"). He'd also brought along small pillows for both of them, knowing the hard, wooden bench would be murder on her backside (posturing that he didn't want to "flatten his best attributes on shoddy planks of substandard craftsmanship" as his cover). Sometimes, Hermione thought, Draco played up the priss just a little too much – and too well. No one at all questioned his excuses.

It was hard for Hermione not to casually rest her hand across her abdomen, as had become her custom in private over the last month, and instead to force her arms to stay at her sides when not clapping. But to do so would alert any attentive eyes as to her condition, and that was something she and Draco had agreed they would not want, for both their career sakes and reputations. They weren't even married, for Godric's sake, and despite the strides the wizarding world was taking to overcome its prejudices about single motherhood, collectively it still wasn't quite as liberal as British Muggle mainstream attitudes on the subject.

So, at twenty seven weeks, despite the fact she look like she'd swallowed a basketball and wanted to do nothing more than pet that fact away (although Madam Pomfrey's charm to keep her from showing was working great; no one seemed to suspect a thing still), she realized the necessity for being overly conscientious of her actions. For that reason, she gripped Draco's hand in one of hers, and kept the other firmly on the bench beside her.

It was a thrilling match, but Hufflepuff's Seeker was just a smidge quicker than her rival, and the female Captain grabbed the Snitch in a record face-off that was as exciting as the days Harry had gone up against Draco. With a score of 190 to 40, Hufflepuff took home the gold that year.

Draco waited with Hermione until the box was empty before they got up from their seats. He collected the pillows, shrunk them and put them in his pocket, and then led her out of the stadium and back towards the castle for the traditional Victory Feast. As they crossed the West Bridge, connecting the Classroom Section from the Courtyard, they stopped to find Ginny and Harry before them, standing as if they'd been waiting for them.

This was the first time any of her friends had seen her with Draco, and she immediately tensed up, noting the disappointment that flashed across both of their faces. In solidarity, Draco stood silently at her side, warily watching his former rival stare metaphorical daggers at him.

"Hi, guys!" Hermione greeted, trying to treat the situation as if it were perfectly natural. "Did you come to catch the game?"

Harry looked from her to Draco, down to their entwined hands and back to her face. "Actually, we came to talk to you."

"Okay," she acceded tentatively. "What about? Can we talk over the feast together?"

Ginny, she noted, was becoming redder and redder in the face at every word, and Hermione recognized that steely look in the woman's sky blue eyes. Ballooned out by her own pregnancy – seven and a half months already – she let go of Harry's hand and waddled over to Hermione quicker than should have been possible, given her size. As soon as they were close enough to touch, Ginny intentionally pressed her extended tummy against Hermione's. Swollen bellies bumped, and Hermione actually winced from the jostling. "Actually, we came to find out if you needed our help with this," she poked a finger right into Hermione's tummy. "We were under the impression that the father was out of the picture." She glared over at Draco, then back at Hermione. "But apparently, we were misled."

That last word was so filled with venom that Hermione knew her friends had guessed everything.

"Who told you?" she asked, wanting confirmation, feeling her emotions shut down one by one. Her entire world narrowed to Ginny's disappointment. "Was it Ron?"

Her best girl friend's hands were clenched into fists by her sides and her eyes spit hatred. "In a drunken stupor a few days ago, over feeling stupid for letting you go, yeah." She grit her teeth. "But I bet he'd hate himself now if he knew who he'd lost you to."

Hermione shook her head. "Ron lost me long before I ever started seeing Draco," she wanted to clarify. "He lost me the day he thought about taking Lavender to our bed."

"He said he was sorry for that!" Ginny yelled, her hormonally charged emotions flaring up. "He made a mistake. Once!"

"_Not_ just once," Hermione firmly held fast. "He never stopped seeing her. He was with her even on Christmas Eve." Ginny and Harry both reeled back, as if slapped. There was true shock on both of their faces. "You honestly didn't know?" Neither replied, but the truth was plastered on their stunned expressions. "We aren't in love anymore, Gin. I'm sorry if that hurts you, but Ron and I… it wasn't meant to be. We both recognized that at Christmas, and we've moved on now." She felt a little sad admitting that out loud, but the failures of her marriage weren't hers alone to bear the guilt for, and she refused to play the patsy any longer.

Harry's jaw set in grim determination, and he stepped forward, opening his mouth to say something, Hermione knew, would be detrimental to their friendship. Thankfully, Draco recognized the intent and ran interference. "I wouldn't, Potter," he stated firmly, his face full of warning, his hand tightly holding onto Hermione's, squeezing to let her know to remain silent for now. "You wouldn't want to do or say anything you might regret later." There was a menacing sort of emphasis intentionally placed on that last word, as if Draco was almost daring Harry to try something.

The two former adversaries stared across half a meter, their eyes speaking in a silent, foreign language that only they could interpret from their long, bitter years of hating each other. It was Ginny who broke the stalemate.

"It would seem that maybe it's best for all of us to 'move on' then," Ginny stated rather finally. She looked at Hermione with a mix of both pain and disgust, and then her chin lifted, her decision made. "And for the record, Ron's not over you. Not by a long shot." With that, she turned, took Harry's hand in her own, and dragged him away back down the corridor towards the Courtyard and beyond that, the Entrance Hall.

Hermione stood there in shock, staring at the retreating heads of her friends until they were out of sight. Even then, she remained rooted to the spot, thinking this had all been a terrible misunderstanding and at any second, Ginny and Harry would turn back and apologize, and everything would be all right again. But as the seconds ticked by silently, she realized that wish wasn't going to happen. The people she'd loved like family, who had been so prominent in her heart for going on fifteen years, they were now gone from her life, just like that. Just like Dumbledore, and Lupin, and Tonks, and Fred, and Colin, and Moody…

Draco caught her as her knees gave out and as the first of her bitter tears fell. He held her gently to him, rocking her back and forth, saying nothing, letting her grief run its course.

**X~~~~~X**

**Late May, 2007**

With only a few weeks left until the school year ended, Hermione did her best to help her students prepare for their final exams. Her feet and back were beginning to hurt more, so she had brought a short stool in to help her during teaching demonstrations, and had begun to rely more upon the Prefects to tutor struggling classmates.

During this time, she took frequent hot baths with scented oils to help her relax at night. Draco often accompanied her in this hobby; he was frequently tense these days as well, she noted. They would trade off giving each other neck, shoulder, hand and foot massages, which frequently led to sex. Although her drive had decreased some, Hermione still enjoyed coupling with him. Not only did it help take the edge off for both of them, but it also helped heighten their intimacy.

It was after one such session that she and Draco lazily began deciding their baby's name.

"How about Lyra?" he asked, stroking her tummy gently as they lay on their sides, spooning. "It's my grandmother's name on my mother's side."

"Hmm… not bad," Hermione admitted. "Maybe for a middle name though?"

"Vela?" he tried again. "The constellation of Sails."

She shook her head. "Too close to veela for comfort. Can you imagine trying to explain to a room full of boys that they misunderstood the pronunciation of our daughter's name when they come courting?"

Draco growled low. "She won't be dating until she's twenty anyway."

Hermione snickered. "If she's anything like I was, you won't have to worry about it… much." She turned, a horrified expression on her face. "But what if she's like _you_ in that department, though. Oh, dear." They both knew Draco's sexual history had begun at the tender age of fourteen and a half (the night of the Yule Ball, in fact), and that he'd been something of a male slag since. She also knew that the seed she'd just planted in his head would drive him barmy. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, trying to cover up the teasing smile, but failed miserably.

"You are _really_ bad at that game, love," he admonished her, catching on immediately, and proceeded to lightly tickle her sides, which had become very sensitive over the last few weeks to such touches. Hermione giggled outrageously, crying 'uncle' quickly.

"Okay, okay," she surrendered. "We'll keep her locked up in her room until she's old, fat and gray."

Draco snorted. "Better," he joked, holding her to him as close as possible without pushing on her belly. "How about Carina? It's in the same constellation as Vela."

Hermione considered it. The name certainly rolled off the tongue well. "I like it. Let's keep that one in mind. Any others?"

One golden eyebrow raised in amusement. "One name isn't enough for you?"

Hermione shrugged. "I like keeping my options open at this point. Carina Granger is pretty, but not perfect."

Draco stopped petting her, and his eyes focused on hers with concern. "Carina Malfoy," he corrected rather insistently.

She blinked at him, her eyebrows shooting down in confusion. "She should take my last name, seeing as how we're not married, Draco."

He shifted and sat up on his elbow. "She's my daughter, too," he resolutely stated.

Hermione's ire rose to the forefront. How _dare _he, after everything he'd done to her in the beginning, and after leaving her for a third of her pregnancy alone (true, he hadn't known she was carrying his child, since she hadn't actually told him, but that was really beside the point). The issue in contention here was that he was trying to bully her again, and she _refused_ to be cowed anymore. "You're not the one carrying her," she pointed out firmly. She narrowed her eyes in warning. "The last time I checked, Draco, you didn't do any of the vomiting or the fainting for her, you _aren't_ having your body practically ruined as a result of this pregnancy, and you won't be actually delivering her out of your womb in a labor that is guaranteed to leave you traumatized and possibly even put your life in danger. So… until you decide upon a permanent name change for the both her and me, I suggest you get used to the idea that her last name will be mine."

With that, she lay down and turned on her side away from him and tried to sleep, but even with her eyes shut, sleep eluded her. It got worse when Draco actually left the bed, redressed and went back to his own room without a word. She cried after that, realizing she'd just pushed an issue that he probably wasn't prepared to discuss yet.

But they were having a baby together, for Merlin's sake! They were committed on some deeply bonded level for life, whether they wanted to be or not – if not to each other, than certainly to their child, for being a parent didn't just stop when the little bird left the nest. It was a forever kind of thing. For all the tea in England, how much harder could being married be over raising a kid together?

The one thing she realized that night was that her mother had been right: in a relationship, you never go to bed angry.

**X~~~~~X**

**Early June, 2007**

Hermione and Draco had tentatively made up after their 'naming' spat within two days, but she could feel that some damage had been done between them that, she feared, might not be repaired unless she conceded to what he wanted. But once more, her pride refused. Draco Malfoy had always gotten what he'd wanted – even her taking him back after the horrible thing he had done to her - but on this, she simply could not back down. Her child's reputation depended upon him doing the right thing for once in his adult life, and that meant coming out to the world that they were together in a permanent relationship – recognizing them both as his family. She would accept no less for her little girl, or for herself.

**X~~~~~X**

**Mid June, 2007**

By the 16th, exams ended, and on the 21st, the results were in. All of Hermione's students – every single one of them, including Mr. "Troll" – had passed with an "Acceptable" or better. Many had made their OWLs and NEWTs with an "Exceeds Expectations" or "Outstanding," in fact. It was a stupendous last victory for her before going on sabbatical.

After the year end feast, she retired to her room for an evening bath and an early night. She was simply exhausted, carrying around all of this extra weight on her petite frame. Thirty-three weeks along and she was just so ready to push this child out of her. She was tired of having to urinate all the time, and the heartburn was murder on her appetite. Poppy kept forcing down her throat that she needed not to skip any meals now, and reminded her to take her potions, but some days it was difficult to do both of those things (she still did them, but she didn't _want_ to necessarily).

Worst of all were the nightmares. She kept having dreams involving Draco leaving her, while Ron, Harry and Ginny all pointing out to her that she deserved it because she'd hooked up with a Malfoy. She could never tell Draco these terrors, though, lying when he awoke beside her, saying she couldn't remember any details as the dreams faded too quickly. She felt bad about that, mostly because she knew that _he_ knew she was lying. But she didn't want him to know how pathetic she was; how the very thought of him dumping her and her baby flat had her in such a heightened state of anxiety at times that she wanted to run screaming for the hills.

If only she knew why he seemed reluctant to bring up marriage with her! He'd told her he loved her, true, but she never really considered until recently if the amount of feeling he had for her matched her feelings for him. How did he mean it when he said, 'I love you' anyway? What if she just wasn't 'the one' for him, like he was for her? Gods, that would destroy her if true. She honestly couldn't see herself with anyone else ever again. She wanted to wake up with Draco every day, experience everything she could with him, and live a long life filled with beautiful memories with him. But did he want that with her back?

As she crawled into the steaming, scented tub, she realized that the Hogwarts Express was coming on Friday, in two days, and that she'd be on it, headed for the flat she'd arranged via owl to rent in Diagon Alley (so she'd be near anything she might need – including St. Mungo's, which wasn't far from the main drag). She sighed, realizing her time here was limited and she'd definitely miss her second home once she left. It was going to be difficult to say goodbye, even if only for a year.

She wondered where Draco planned to go. Probably home to Malfoy Manor. Would he come to see her still? She doubted if he would every night, as their current, convenient arrangement allowed. The thought of sleeping alone in a bed again after so long was daunting.

**X~~~~~X**

Two days later, Hermione moved into her flat in London with help from Draco, Minerva, Poppy (who fussed over her doing anything strenuous), and Neville (who had been oddly accepting of her relationship with the man who had formerly bullied them both, and who recognized – strangely enough – that she'd been hiding a pregnancy for months; apparently Neville was much more mature about the whole thing than certain other friends of hers, explaining simply that people "grew up" and became who they were really meant to be after leaving high school). It felt good to have people accepting of her relationship with Malfoy, no matter how few in number they were.

With the help of magic, the entire process took less than two hours – and then her flat was completely set-up, all clothes in dressers and the closet, her bedding arranged, her pictures up on the walls, her toiletries in the storage cupboard or arranged as she liked in the bathroom, her books and various knick-knacks in a shelf in the small living space, and on the mantle rested a small memorial box carrying her familiar's ashes (Crookshanks had died three years previously; Kneazles didn't live as long as ordinary house cats, she'd been sad to discover). Thankfully, she'd negotiated for an extra fee to have the flat furnished, and for kitchen utensils to be included. All that was left was groceries, which she could shop for later.

She took everyone out to dinner at a Muggle restaurant for a treat (helping the others transfigure their clothes into appropriate attire). Minerva was practically bouncing with joy over the idea, as she'd only gone into Muggle London a few times in her long life, and seemed to enjoy the change. Neville seemed daunted by the prospect, but didn't back down. Draco gave in easily enough, but she sensed he'd much rather have preferred to stay in the Alley, which had blossomed with new businesses over the last few years, expanding their dining options considerably. Still, Hermione had wanted to treat them to something different, and so they hopped a double-seater taxi (which had Neville wide eyed, and not from sitting next to Minerva and having their knees touch, either). They stopped first at a Muggle ATM (where Hermione used her debit card to extract some of the savings that she'd left in there after graduating Hogwarts; she'd received extremely generous monetary gifts from her Muggle family members, who'd hoped she'd take the cash and go to University – away from the wizarding world, which made them all more than a tad nervous), and then went on to an Asian Fusion restaurant that their driver so kindly suggested.

The dinner was an unparalleled success. All three of her wizarding colleagues were floored by the elegance of the appetizers and entrées – the tastes, the smells, and the presentation were simply perfect. The dessert course, complete with Chai and coffee, was amazing as well. Minerva had simply peeped with bliss when she'd let the flavors of her mango sticky rice – a Thai favorite - mingle across her mouth.

Afterwards, Hermione thanked them all again for helping her with this important transition, and promised to keep in touch with Neville, Poppy and Minerva, inviting them over for dinner the next weekend. With careful hugs goodbye, her former school teacher chose an alley to disapparate back to her cottage in Wales from, Madam Pomfrey returned to Hogwarts, and Neville followed to his own modest home in Kent (which had belonged to the Longbottom family for generations, and had been left to him when he'd come of age).

"I miss doing that," Hermione sighed.

Draco shrugged, took her hand, and led her to a taxi stand to wait. "After the baby's born, you'll be able to do it again." He looked around at Muggle London with interest, but unlike Neville, did not gawk like a tourist, much to her relief.

They caught a cab back to the entrance of The Leaky Cauldron, and Draco walked her to her door. With a wave of his wand, he opened her door and walked in as if he owned the place. Hermione was a little floored with his blasé attitude, but then, this was Draco, and he typically commanded any situation he was in, she realized. Locking the door behind them, setting wards against invasion and shutting the floo off (she'd connected it up to the Network earlier that day), he dragged her over to the couch and proceeded to make gentle love to her.

Just as her blouse came off, she became aware of the fact that the curtains in her living area were open. She tried to wriggle out of Draco's embrace to reach for her wand on the small coffee table nearby, but he refused to let her. "Let them see," he murmured while removing her bra and suckling on the dark rose nipple that appeared. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

That daring side of Hermione, the one that liked breaking rules on occasion, decided that this once, it wouldn't hurt. Besides, at this time of the night, not many people were out on the street, and she didn't see anyone coming by now. And the lights were still off in her flat. "Okay," she agreed, and they shared a secret, naughty smile before he proceeded to take her breath away again.

When they were both fully nude, he stood her up and with a devilish glint in his eye; he brought her over to the window and pressed her against it, then dropped to his knees behind her and proceeded to tongue her already dripping folds. Partially embarrassed, partially thrilled with the idea of getting caught doing something like this, she moaned and gave in, letting his hands and mouth work their magic on her. When she came with a loud cry, he stood behind her, tipped her a bit more forward and glided into her soft, moist channel. It was incredible sex, heightened by the fact that they both kept murmuring "I love you," as they moved together towards culmination.

As Draco finally spilled his seed into her, a second orgasm shook Hermione's breath from her in one deep exhalation, steaming up the window in front of her. As she struggled to regain her senses, he carefully pulled out and took her in his arms, holding her close to heart. The beat under her ear was strong, powerful, rapid and soothing. He kissed her riotous curls, rubbing his nose into them, and a strange nervous aura suddenly slipped into the wonder of the moment.

"I have to go away for a few days," he hesitantly told her, breaking the peace. "Family business. Will you be all right on your own? Should I call someone to stay with you?"

The hot tears that unexpectedly prickled the backs of her lids were difficult to control. She was filled her with instantaneous, unexplainable trepidation. "How… how many days?" she asked, feeling strangely weakened by this sudden anxiety that crept into her heart.

He sighed. "A week maybe," he admitted. "No more than ten days at the most. I'll make sure of that."

Hermione swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. A week and a half. She could do that. She'd done much longer without him before, right? "I'll be okay here," she tried to keep a brave face.

"I'll call Minerva to come stay with you, if you want," he offered. "Or Longbottom." That last was said with a resigned sigh, but it was the sentiment that counted.

Hermione shook her head firmly, determined not to make him feel badly about this. He had to go somewhere, and she knew he wouldn't do this unless he had to. It was important, so she put on her best face and smiled up at him. "I'll be fine. I'm a stone's throw from St. Mungo's if I really need help."

He touched her cheek reverently with soft feathering touches. "I'm more worried about you getting into trouble in other ways," he teased. "What if you find another man to bring home while I'm gone, eh?"

Laughter sprang from her lips. "Well, I won't _right_ away," she ribbed back. "But if you're gone too long, I may have to start auditions for a replacement."

Draco gave her a smug smirk. "You'd never find anyone with my sexy arse who can do you as well as I can," he boasted, and proceeded to hungrily ravish her mouth. She felt his renewed erection pressing against her belly.

Playing along, she took a deep breath and looked at him skeptically. "I'm not sure about that. I'll need to test that theory at least once more tonight before having a baseline upon which to measure."

He took her hand and led her to the bedroom to christen her new mattress. "I'll show you baseline, missy," he threatened, falling into the center of the bed and dragging her over him so she could straddle his hard cock once more. He did her good, thrusting his powerful hips up into her, his hands roaming over her belly, moving up to her breasts and cupping them, pinching her sensitized nipples with just the right amount of pressure. As she wailed her next climax to the ceiling, he continued to pump into her from below. "That's right," he chuckled darkly. "No one will ever fuck you as good as I do, Granger, and you know it." He grabbed her hips, pulling her over his length back and forth. "Now, come for me again."

After working back up to it, she did as he bade, her body overly sensitized, and soon after, he followed her. They fell asleep in their usual position, both sated and warm, but Hermione's heart was not eased fully. She closed her eyes, listening to the rhythm of his even breathing and tried to quell the anxiety that was creeping back into her chest.

In the morning, Draco was gone.

**X~~~~~X**

**Late June, 2007**

He had been away for a week now, without word, and Hermione worried. This was not usual for him. He should have at least owl'd her once in all that time, shouldn't he have?

She spent her days at the Ministry, researching Magical Law for Minerva's project, and she went to Flourish & Blotts to pick up books by third-parties so she could get an objective understanding of the subject matter (making sure Poppy's charm to make her look 'normal' was still firmly in place). She tried to avoid the Auror's Office, worried she'd have a run-in with Harry or Ron, but unfortunately, like a bad knut, those two turned up at the least expected time and she ran smack-dab into them in the entry hall, near the golden statues.

"Hi," she shyly greeted, trying to keep her hands from trembling by holding the small stack of files in her arms close to her chest. It was an unconscious protective gesture, she knew, and didn't deny herself this one time to engage in the coping mechanism.

"Hi," Ron greeted back, his freckled face reddening in embarrassment.

"Hey," Harry followed suit, not looking her in the eye, but down at the floor.

The three former best friends stood in irresolute limbo for several seconds, before Hermione realized that she was embarrassing herself and the pain in her chest became too unbearable for her to tolerate any longer, and she made to go past them to the floos. "Take care," she managed.

Just as she reached for the green, shimmering substance that would take her back home, Ron's hand on hers stopped her. "Wait," he entreated. "I…" He stopped, clearly unsure as to what to say next. He stumbled over his tongue for a bit before looking at her a little sadly. "I'm sorry."

Hermione blinked at him in confusion. "For what?"

He had the grace to blush and look over his shoulder at Harry, who was standing off to the side, trying to melt into the floor. "For… ratting you out like I did." He looked back at her with earnest eyes the color of Caribbean seas. "I was drunk and thoughtless. S'no excuse, I know, but… 'Mione, I'm sorry if I hurt you. Again."

She was absolutely floored. This was not the same man she'd been married to last year. He seemed to have completely matured over the last several months. Like his personality had undergone radical surgery, died on the table, and come back with a new conscientious understanding of the world, especially as it related to her. It took her two tries to say what she wanted.

"Its okay, Ron, really," she conceded. "The truth is always better, no matter how painful. Thank you for caring about my feelings on this matter, though. It… means a great deal to me." She reached out and patted the back of his hand. She graced him with an appreciative smile, and then let him go and started for the floo once more, feeling the tight pressure in her chest easing up somewhat.

Again, his hand on her halted her progress. "Will you have tea with me sometime?" he asked desperately. "I miss you."

She turned with wide eyes, shocked, unsure as to how to respond. Then, with a regretful expression, she shook her head. "I'm with Draco now, Ron," she informed him. "I'm sorry."

He let her go reluctantly, took a deep breath and nodded. Rubbing a hand through his long, red bangs he exhaled and gave her a sad smile. "Had to try," he offered with a nonchalant shrug, then shoved his hands in both pockets of his dark brown slacks. "You look good, 'Mione," he complimented as he turned. "See you."

"Bye," she mournfully replied, watching his back as he moved to rejoin Harry. Over Ron's shoulder, Harry's piercing green eyes were filled with equal sorrow. Then, the two moved off together, back towards the elevators, and Hermione forced herself to turn away, throw the floo powder and call out her address. Within seconds, she was home. Numbly she sat on her couch, file folders still crushed to her chest, and cried her loss again.

She missed Draco. Where was he? What was he doing? Why hadn't he contacted her?

**X~~~~~X**

**Early July, 2007**

When Draco finally returned to her on July 2nd, he looked somehow defeated. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he was frowning.

She'd come home after a short trip to Flourish & Blotts to pick up a new book that she had ordered, and found him standing in her living room, staring a picture on her wall of her, Harry and Ron from Fourth Year. It was spring-time then, and she'd thrown her arms about both her best friends and all of them smiled brightly for the camera before erupting into silly giggles. Colin Creevey had taken that picture, she sadly remembered.

"You've never laughed so freely like that with me," he commented, breaking the awkward silence between them finally. "Even when I've tickled you."

Hermione put her package down on the coffee table and waddled over to him. She turned him so he would look at her, and she touched his face gently, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him with all of the pent up love she'd been holding back for the last nine days. When she pulled away, she shivered. He hadn't responded, and that horrible feeling grabbed a hold of the center of her being and shook her. "I love you," was all she could think to say in that moment, terrified that if she opened her mouth too much, all of her suddenly risen fears would come tumbling out. She pressed a kiss over his heart and laid her cheek against it. "And I missed you _so_ _much_."

His arms came up around her and held her close. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and nuzzled her. "I missed you, too," he admitted with a sigh.

They held each other in silence for several minutes before she finally pulled back and led him to the couch. "Do you want some tea?" she offered, hoping to ease whatever ill-feelings he was experiencing. Something must have gone wrong with his family, she guessed, but she didn't want to probe, knowing how reluctant he was to discuss them with her from previous discussions they'd had on the subject.

"No," he refused gently. "I want to talk to you."

Her stomach felt like a riot of butterflies exploding, and her daughter squirmed around uncomfortably, letting her know that she was aware of her mother's discomfiture. Petting her belly unconsciously, she tried to quell her baby's displeasure, while at the same time, soothing herself. "Okay, what about?"

He seated her on the couch at his side and held her hand in his, staring down at their entwined fingers. It took him a failed attempt first before he spit out what had been bothering him. "Would you mind it terribly if my parents never accepted us?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Is that where you went? To talk to them about us?"

He nodded. "Among other things. Would you mind though?"

She thought about it for a few seconds, realized she was terribly disappointed that Narcissa and Lucius couldn't get over their blood prejudices enough to want to have anything to do with their granddaughter, much less for the sake of their only son, but she shook her head. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised to hear this, honestly, and I am disappointed somewhat, but, I accept it. All that matters to me is that I have you." She smiled sadly. "Besides, it's not like any of my friends were any more accepting of us, either." Her gaze shot to his in sudden concern. "Your parents… they didn't hurt you, did they?" The idea made her suddenly quite angry. If they had harmed him…

He looked at her earnestly and shook his head, a glint of appreciation in his gaze. "You're quite a woman, Granger," he admitted finally, leaning in for a kiss. "No, they didn't hurt me. Not physically anyway. I _have_ been disinherited, however."

Hermione bit her lip and winced. "I'm so sorry, Draco. I never wanted to come between you and your parents."

He shrugged. "It's not like we got along all that well after the war anyway. And I knew what I was getting myself into the moment I decided to pursue you." He tugged her down to lean against his chest. "They were just angry they had to return the dowry to my intended."

Hermione stiffened and pushed back from him. "You… you were engaged?"

He shrugged again. "It was arranged when we were children, but I've done my best to ignore it – and her - since I found out in Fourth Year."

Less concerned with the fact that he didn't tell her now that the point was moot, her curiosity was piqued as to who the competition had been. "Who was she?"

A golden eyebrow raised and a small smirk twitched to life. "I think I like it when you're jealous, Granger. It's a turn-on to know you want me that much."

She slapped his chest and pushed away with a 'harrumph' of disgust. He didn't let go of her, tugging her back gently and chuckled against the shell of her ear. "No one important, I assure you. I've never touched her - ever. And I never plan to. I've got my hands full with the likes of you." He placed a kiss on her temple, and pulled away. "Which reminds me…" He reached into his robes and pulled out his bag with the Undetectable Extension Charm on it, reached in and pulled out a small, rectangular box. "For you."

Surprised, Hermione smiled and reached for the box. Draco pulled it back at the last second.

"But it comes with something else, so if you take it, you have to accept the whole gift," he teased, and then handed it to her.

Pushing a very long curl behind her ear nervously, much as she had the day he'd given her the sapphire earrings – which she had been continually wearing since they'd gotten back together, having taken them off for a few months after the events between them in January – she unwrapped the box carefully, folding the dark green, satiny paper up to keep it (as she did his previous gift), then slid off the box lid. Inside was a small ring box. Her heart started pounding in her chest, and her fingers trembled as she pushed back the top on its hinges.

Inside was a beautiful white gold diamond and sapphire engagement ring. The center rock was huge and brilliant, and she was betting it was flawless or nearly so. She gasped and began crying as he took it from her and removed the piece from its box and knelt before her on the couch. "What do you think, Granger?" he asked, holding it out to her. "Will you take it all?"

There was absolutely no hesitation. She nodded enthusiastically and he slid the ring home on the fourth finger of her left hand. She threw herself into his arms and kissed him with joy. With his help, she stood and began happily (carefully) bouncing around the room, crying out, "YES, YES, YES!" at the top of her voice in elation. She extended her hand out and showed the ring to her memorial box. "Look, Crooks, I'm getting married to Draco Malfoy!"

Her fiancée chuckled at her silliness and swept up behind her, kissing her on the neck, then led her off to her bedroom. On the way past that picture of her, Ron and Harry laughing, he lifted her ring finger to it and showed it off, then smirked triumphantly and tugged her away. They celebrated this important crossroads in their life by making sweet love for over an hour. After, they lay in the glow against her pillows, stroking each other's sweaty faces, grinning silly until they finally fell asleep.

Just before she was lost to the darkness, Hermione felt her fiancée's hand touch her belly. "Hermione and Carina Malfoy," he whispered possessively.

**X~~~~~X**

**Early August, 2007 **

Hermione went into labor the night of August 6th officially (at forty weeks exactly). Her water broke around nine o'clock while she was getting changed for bed in her room and she called out to Draco, who was in the kitchen, to hurry to her. He rushed to her side, took one look at her face, then between her legs to the floor, paled even more (if that was possible, given his alabaster complexion), and took a deep calming breath. With amazing determination, he kept it together, and went through the steps they'd discussed several times over the last week.

Since floo-ing and apparition were a no-no during such a time, he had to levitate-carry her to St. Mungo's, which was fortunately just down the street. That short distance was the longest few minutes of Hermione's life, though as she began having ridiculous visions of dropping her kid right there on the pavement in front of the faux, red-brick department store front - Purge & Dowse, Ltd. - that covered for the wizarding hospital.

Thankfully, the Muggles out walking about on the streets didn't notice a thing out of the ordinary, as Draco had cast a Disillusionment and Silencing Charm on them both. "Quick thinking," she acknowledged in between painful contractions.

"Well, I _am_ marrying the Charms professor," he explained, hurrying them along, but also being careful to keep her away from any passer-bys to prevent bumping into them. "Had to show off my skills for her."

She tried to joke back to keep her mind off the discomfort. "Some bizarre mating ritual, I take it?"

He nodded. "I'm just lucky she's not into the whole eating your partner thing like Praying Mantises. That would really put a crimp on tonight's events."

Unable to help herself, Hermione laughed… and then quickly gasped as another searing, nauseating pain rolled over her. "Just get me there quick, and I'll let you keep your head," she growled, pressing her hand to her distended belly.

They arrived without causing a scene, and she was immediately rushed to a private room, where a Medi-witch attended her. She asked specifically for someone to floo Poppy at Hogwarts, as she wanted the woman to serve as her birth attendant. When told it would be several more hours before the delivery, Draco offered to do it.

He returned less than an hour later with Madam Pomfrey and Minerva in tow. Thankfully, by then, Hermione was doped up on pain-killing potions that left her feeling euphoric. "Hello, hello!" she joyously bade them come in with a wave of her hand. "Welcome to my baby's birth!" She felt drunk and high at the same time. It was such a rush! She giggled, snorted very unladylike at giggling, which made her break out into another fit of giggles because of the snorting.

Poppy sighed. "Well, at least they got the dosage right," she groused. She turned to the others. "We might as well all sit and be comfortable. The baby will come when it's ready."

"I'm just going to owl a few people," Minerva excused herself, and Draco took a seat at Hermione's side, holding her hand.

"I really love you," she intoxicatedly told him with a huge smile. "Really, really, really, really, really…"

He snickered. "I get it. I love you, too," he told her, kissing the back of her knuckles.

"Oh, good… because I'd hate to eat your head," she announced, not realizing the double _entendre_, and promptly passed out.

**X~~~~~X**

At exactly seven minutes past eight in the morning on August 7th, 2007, Carina Lyra Malfoy came into the world. She weighed 3.17 kilograms, and was 53.3 centimeters long. It was a hard labor for Hermione, with a lot of excessive bleeding, but her body would recover with the right potions and bed rest, she was assured.

Draco had stayed with her the whole time, holding her hand, aggravating her intentionally to get her to push harder when required. She really hated him in those last few minutes, and wondered what in the hell she'd been thinking letting him touch her to begin with. She'd vowed never again.

As soon as Carina was cleaned up and presentable and Poppy assured that it was okay to do so, Draco took his daughter out into the waiting room for those gathered by Minerva to present their daughter to the world (well, Neville, Minerva, her parents, her favorite aunt and three female cousins, and Theodore Nott – who'd been perceptive enough to guess her pregnancy by her fifth month despite the charms placed on her shape, and was currently eyeing one of Hermione's relations – a chestnut haired beauty with laughing brown eyes - with interest). Hermione had passed out again immediately after the birth in contented exhaustion and so missed the show. She was told later that the proud papa had standing tears in his eyes as he gently held his little girl to his chest in the proper manner, as he'd been shown by the Medi-Witch, and rocked her to sleep.

**X~~~~~X**

**Early September, 2007**

Draco returned to Hogwarts on Sunday the 2nd of September to continue teaching at Hermione's insistence (Minerva hadn't been forewarned of needing to find a new Potions Master, she successfully argued, and she didn't want to put their friend and boss into any more of a difficult position because of their follies). It was a tough emotional adjustment for Hermione to make, honestly, as she had come to rely so heavily on her fiancée's mere presence in the house, nearby. There were a lot of frustrated tears that first week, but by that first weekend, she'd made herself a promise not to cause this transition to be any more difficult on either of them, and so had promptly forced herself to keep a stiff upper lip.

The separation became bearable for two reasons:

The first was that every other day she received a note from Draco via owl. Usually the letter wouldn't say anything earth-shattering ("I love you," "how's our baby girl?" "Are you sleeping and eating?" "I miss you," etc.), but each one she received was a precious gift to her, and so she took to scrapbooking them in her photo album.

The second reason was that, thankfully, Hermione's parents had arrived a day after Carina's birth to be with the fledgling family and help out, and when it had been settled that Draco was to go back to work, Richard and Eleanor Granger had graciously agreed to remain behind for however long Hermione needed them. Since they had retired quite well to Australia after Hermione had graduated from Hogwarts years previously, and had downsized their possessions and been renting a flat there every since (not wanting to go back into homeownership, preferring a freer, more casual lifestyle than the one they'd lived in England), they had all the time in the world to devote to caring for their only child and grandchild. And their aid was a true blessing. They frequently babysat while Hermione continued her research efforts towards Minerva's project, and helped with chores around the house (shopping, cleaning, laundry, food prep and dishes). Her mother also helped her with sensitive and embarrassing new mothering issues, such as breastfeeding (Carina hadn't wanted her milk for a few days, but now they had established a comfortable routine), and problems bonding with her baby (for some freaky reason, Hermione had actually avoided touching her child for a few days after the birth, but once it was explained to her that this, too, was a frequent side effect of giving birth – extreme anxiety and trauma sometimes caused new mothers to occasionally feel inadequate and terrified of hurting their child, and so they would avoid them – she had finally been able to put aside her aversion and picked Carina up, holding her – and falling in love with her little girl then – quite naturally).

Hermione continued to take her potions as proscribed by Poppy to prevent the onset of Postpartum Depression, to help her continued pain and bloating (at barely two weeks out of birth, her abdomen was still blown up – which she'd been assured was normal, and it would take several more weeks for her uterus to contract once more, and then a few months of diet and exercise to restore her body to its rightful shape). The bleeding and occasional migraines, though, those she could do without. These, too, would last several more weeks until her body readjusted to not being pregnant any longer and her chemistry righted itself once more. Still, as long as she kept herself occupied and medicated, she seemed to function relatively normally.

And Draco did come home every weekend, which helped to reassure Hermione of his devotion. Of course, Carina sucked up most of his attention during those few hours they had together (their daughter was, quite obviously, daddy's little girl), but her parents would kindly offer to watch the child to give Hermione and her fiancée alone time as well. Usually, this consisted of dinner in the Alley at one of the new restaurants and then a short walk around the block, before returning to the flat to be sure Carina was safe and secure (yes, she and Draco suffered anxiety separation from their child, but that was to be expected given that they were first time parents).

Still, a lingering worry subsisted. Draco had not pushed for them to officially wed now that Carina was here. She wondered what that may mean, or if she was just making a mountain out of a mole hill.

**X~~~~~X**

**Late September, 2007**

One weekend evening at dinner, Hermione's father, Richard, bluntly asked Draco when he intended on marrying Hermione finally – as if he'd picked the thoughts right out of his daughter's head. Draco simply looked over at her, raised an eyebrow and stated rather simply, "Pick a date."

Hermione's jaw hit the floor. "Serious?"

Draco shrugged as if it was no big deal. "Sure. When?"

This was _so_ not how Hermione envisioned her wedding planning. Draco seemed so disinterested that it got Hermione's knickers in a bunch. Just to be bitchy, she decided to call his bluff. "All right then, how about in a week?"

Draco acquiesced with an easy nod. "Okay, one week it is," he readily agreed and took a bite of his brown-gravy meatloaf without missing a beat. "What day is that, October 7th?" he turned to Richard and asked.

Her father nodded. "I think so, yes."

The world tilted crazily for Hermione. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold your horses. I was just kidding," she stated, standing indignantly. "What makes you think I even _want_ to marry you now, given how incredibly unromantic you're being about all of this?"

Draco looked back at her and blinked in surprise. "What's wrong, Granger? You're not afraid of commitment now, are you?" He smirked smugly at her and took another bite of dinner.

"Now, dear, you're a mother," Eleanor cooed in agreement with Draco. "That's the biggest commitment of your life. This should be no big deal. What are you so afraid of?"

"Yes, honey," her father turned on her, "A week is plenty of time for you to get ready."

Horrified, Hermione turned on her father to give him a piece of her mind (a wedding wasn't something rushed, after all), but one look at Richard's face, and Hermione knew he, her mother and Draco had planned this conversation all along. They were baiting her on purpose, trying to get her to loosen up. She shut her eyes and shook her head, grinning. "Unbelievable. You three almost had me!"

The two men in her life exchanged a grin that was almost identical in wickedness, and Eleanor, Hermione's mother laughed. "Well, you can't blame us for trying, dear," she admitted her part in the duplicity. "We only want what's best for you."

So, almost giving her an aneurysm was what was best for her, they thought?

Uh, huh. Right.

It was time to turn the tables around.

"Right, it's decided then," she clapped her hands together and rubbed them enthusiastically in front of her chest, a pleased little smile on her face. "The date's all set. Now, what about the place? Oh, and who to invite? Not too many people, of course. I'd rather a very small affair with only our closest friends and family, if you don't mind awfully much, Draco. And nothing elaborate either. Simple is best."

The reaction to her pronouncement was priceless.

The room went dead silent. As one, her parents and Draco's mouths literally gaped wide open, their eyebrows cleared their foreheads, and their eyes bugged in astonishment. Evidently, the three of them had underestimated Hermione's ability to roll with the punches on occasion (adaptation to the unexpected was something she'd had to learn during the war, after all). In this case, she'd already rationalized to herself, if she gave in and went along with the ridiculous deal her parents and Draco had just proposed, she'd be getting what she wanted anyway, so it all worked out quite fetchingly. She didn't want excessive attention ever again (she'd had her fill after the war had ended and every paparazzi had followed her and Ron around obsessively), so an understated, untraditional wedding with very little announcement would keep things intimate and personal – and out of the public eye, just like she wanted. It was, actually, the perfect plan.

Lingering on her fiancée's face, Hermione smiled triumphantly, knowing she'd finally caught him fair and square. There'd be no backing out now (that was, if he didn't want her father to cream him). "What's the matter Malfoy?" she baited her lover, "A little commitment got your tongue?"

**X~~~~~X**

**October 7th, 2007**

Exactly one year after they'd begun their affair, Hermione and Draco wed in a private, small ceremony on a cool, breezy Sunday morning in front of the lake at Hogwarts – the setting where, more than fifteen years earlier, she and Draco had met (albeit not on the best of terms then). In attendance were Minerva (Hermione's Matron of Honor), Poppy, Neville and his wife Hannah, Hermione's parents (who held onto Carina for them and assured the little girl remained quiet and asleep for the ceremony by rocking her throughout), her favorite aunt and three cousins again, Theodore Nott (Draco's best man, who had actually come with one of the cousins – the one he'd been eyeing – as his date), and Kinglsey Shacklebolt (who performed the nuptials as a private favor to Hermione). A warming charm had been cast about the area for everyone's comfort.

Hermione wore a beautifully flowing, long evening dress in chiffon and satin that was a pastel green (partially to impress Draco, who still favored Slytherin colors over any other, and partially for herself, because she rather liked the cut of this dress, and this particular shade showed off its attributes best). The ceremony lasted fifteen minutes. She carried a simple bouquet of white freesia, hand tied with a white ribbon. There was no walk down an aisle; she simply apparated next to him, and then she and Draco spoke vows they'd written for each other, they exchanged rings (plain, white gold bands), and when they kissed, it wasn't a shy, hesitant thing like she had done with Ron – this was an exuberant kiss filled with promises.

After, they all apparated together (Hermione taking a hold of her parents, Draco taking the baby) to Diagon Alley for the reception at Poseidon's, a restaurant that had opened up relatively recently, but received rave reviews in _The Daily Prophet's Food & Wine Section_. It was a grand feast, as it served not only to commemorate the joining of Hermione and Draco, but also their "coming out" party to the world as an official couple with a baby. No more secrets would be possible once they went down to the General Registry Office together on Monday to file their paperwork (they decided in August to keep Carina's birth certificate out of the Ministry's hands, however, for their little girl's privacy and to keep her out of the paparazzi's sight). Afterward dinner, the teachers all returned to Hogwarts, Hermione's Muggle relations were escorted to London via apparation by Theodore Nott so they could catch their trains home, and Hermione, Draco and Hermione parents took Carina back to the flat to spend a quiet evening together.

They left for their two week honeymoon to Tahiti the next day after finishing up at the Ministry (McGonagall had convinced Nott to teach Draco's classes in his absence). They decided to go with the Muggle accommodations and honeymoon offerings, staying in an overwater bungalow on their own private stretch of beach. They pampered themselves terribly with side-by-side hour-long massages every other day at the resort (located further inland), romantic candlelit dinners every night (complete with champagne and fine wines), exploratory diving to check out the unique and exotic marine life around the island (thanks to a few bubble head charms), swimming in the warm, tropic waters whenever they felt like it, laying out side by side in a hammock to laze about practically every day (they spent this time really talking, and learning everything they could about each other), and of course, having sex _everywhere_. They acted like hormonally charged teenagers, fucking like crazy, uncaring of the world around them, caught up in the riot of feelings and sensations. Hermione loved every second of their holiday.

**X~~~~~X**

**Late October, 2007**

They returned to reality on October 28th, tanned and thoroughly relaxed, having shagged so much that they'd surely made up for the months they'd been apart earlier in the year. The first thing Draco did was excitedly greet Carina, while Hermione profusely thanked her parents for going above and beyond the call of duty. She presented them with the gifts they'd brought back – a string of pearlized shells set into a necklace for her mother, and for her father, the actual tooth of a Great White shark that had actually been dislodged by a rather large female accidentally when she'd bitten into a surfer's board, leaving it behind (Hermione had spent more than an hour trying to convince the guy to part with it, eventually having to pay him fifty Euros – but only after using Legilimency on him to make sure he was telling the truth about the tooth's origin and the shark species, as it wouldn't do to have dealings with a fraud).

Surprisingly, Ron had sent her a big package containing a number of items from his family members. Along with a note of congratulations, he'd given Carina a small Chudley Cannons blanket for her bed; Molly and Arthur had sent along some hand knitted booties, sweaters, and hats; Charlie had thrown in a stuffed dragon toy; George and Angelina included a pinwheel that showed the sun when spun about fast; Bill and Fleur gifted Carina with some scented French soaps that were soft enough for baby skin; Percy and Audrey gave a gift certificate to Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour (for when things settled, and she was "ready to go back out into the world" according to the note). To her surprise, Ginny and Harry had sent along a hand-quilted blanket with Carina's name embroidered into one corner. It seemed that Ron had managed to convince his family that Hermione wasn't to be shunned, and for that, she was extremely grateful to her ex- for being so decent. She wished for the 'new Ron' to find someone good to love someday.

Her own parents stayed on to help and to keep Hermione company. They spoiled their granddaughter terribly, and kept the little girl's mother from being too lonely during the week, when Draco was forced to remain at Hogwarts.

On Friday night, Draco would always apparate home from Hogsmeade Station. Her husband had strongly bonded with his daughter, hardly letting Carina out of his sight in the hours he had to spend with his family. A wistful expression would take over during such times when he thought no one was observing him, though, and Hermione knew he was wishing his own parents would want to be this involved with his child. She ached for him.

Somehow, she had to make this right. For his sake. For Carina's sake. She started formulating a plan.

**X~~~~~X**

**Late November, 2007**

Hermione's parents were still staying on, helping out the best they could. She was eternally grateful to her mother for all of her advice and assistance during this time, as she was sure she'd have been more exhausted mentally and physically, even with Draco's aid on the weekends, had her mum not been there for them. Carina was quite a handful!

Her baby's personality was an odd combination of both parents: curious and good natured like mum, with an occasional seriousness or biting angry squall like dad when she wanted something. She definitely had her father's features, however (although the doctor said it was quite possible that her steel grey eyes would change to brown over the next few months, since Hermione's eyes were the dominant color, and her very light, platinum hair might darken up over time as well). For now, though, she looked and generally acted every bit a Malfoy, for which Draco was supremely pleased.

This time in Hermione's life was tiring, but the happiest she could ever remember being. Draco was enamored with their little girl, and she with him, and he was very attentive to Hermione's needs as well – bringing her tea, drawing her bath for her, cuddling up with her at night when he was home (their sex life had returned with gusto, and she'd had to silence their bedroom constantly).

But despite all their happiness, she could still feel that her husband was missing something important in his life. He never spoke of it, but Hermione knew instinctively that inside he was hurting (woman's intuition, and all that jive). Having considered all options on how to breach the gap between he and his parents, he finally settled on a path that she may never have considered previously, but out of desperation to make things right, she decided she needed to try. She was, bluntly, going to pull a Slytherin and trick Malfoy's mum into seeing the baby.

She was going to need help, however. And for that, she co-opted the least likely person…

On November 23rd, Hermione sent a letter to The Burrow.

**X~~~~~X**

The next day, she sat at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and Tea Shoppe (it had added the latter to its business model after the war, seeing a need for yearly revenue options), sipping on a particularly yummy Chai when Ginny and Ron appeared at her table.

"Hey, 'Mione!" Ron greeted, smiling easily, tugging Ginny's arm so his sister was forced to take the seat next to him. "How've you been, mamma?"

Hermione beamed at him. "Hey yourself. Thanks for coming," she greeted, genuinely warmed by her ex-husband's acceptance of her new married and motherhood status. She turned to Ginny next. "Hi Gin," she murmured softly. "You look good."

The woman who had been her best girlfriend for years burst into tears suddenly. "I'm sorry, 'Mione," she cried honestly, her cheeks brightening with blood. "I'm sorry! I was such an arse to you!"

Hermione stood up and crossed the table, pulling Ginny up into an embrace. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, too, Gin, even though it was unintentional," she said simply. "I love you." And everything was suddenly okay again between them. Their feud was officially over.

It was easy to forgive someone when you loved them, she realized, trading a knowing smile with Ron.

**X~~~~~X**

**Early December, 2007**

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Harry whispered to her, peeking around the corner towards the entrance of Madam Malkin's, keeping an eye out for a telltale honey blonde head exiting. He and Hermione had made up that same evening she and Ginny had, after the three apparated over to The Burrow (Molly had burst into tears of happiness, too, and everything bad that had been before was erased in her warm embrace).

"Why wouldn't it?" Ginny asked, getting Hermione and Carina ready for their big, dramatic scene coming up. "'Mione's face was in the papers enough after the war that everyone recognizes her, and Mrs. Malfoy is sure to put two-and-two together when she sees Carina." She smoothed the little girl's riotous hair and cooed at her. "She does look just like her daddy."

Hermione harrumphed. "She's got my curls!" she protested in a whisper.

"No kidding," Ron teased, twining the strands around cutely with his big, meaty fingers. "I've never seen a baby with more hair on its head."

Harry hissed. "She's coming!" he announced and whipped his head around the corner fast, trying not to be seen. "Now or never, 'Mione!"

With a nervous flutter, Hermione patted her long hair down again. "How do we look?"

"Scrumptious," Ron muttered. "Now go." He shooed her, and Hermione was off.

The plan went off flawlessly. Hermione pretended to be going towards Madam Malkin's with Ginny, talking rather loudly about Christmas robes for Carina for a family portrait, and 'accidentally' almost bumped right into Mrs. Malfoy. Making a show of readjusting her baby in her arms, so the little girl's face would be turned towards her grandmother, Hermione excused herself and pretended embarrassment. When the two women connected gazes, Narcissa's eyes widened in recognition and flew automatically to the child in Hermione's arms, her jaw dropping open in surprise. Hermione was quite sure the woman had never been caught so flatfooted and felt a little twinge of guilt for this dishonesty. If Ginny hadn't been there to pick up the part, pretending that they needed to rush if they wanted to finish up their Christmas shopping, Hermione was sure she would have blown the whole thing.

With a stammered 'Oh, excuse me," followed by an awkward silence and then a disappointed sighing, "Good Yule, Lady Malfoy," she, Carina and Ginny moved past the beauteous, aristocratic blonde into the Robes Shoppe.

"Perfectly executed," Ginny whispered in her ear once the door had closed behind them and they made their way further into the store.

"You think so?" Hermione asked nervously. "I thought I almost gave us up back there."

Her best friend shook her head. "Did you see her face? I predict a letter by Christmas, at least."

**X~~~~~X**

**Mid December, 2007**

On the 20th, Ginny's prediction came to fruition. Lady Malfoy had owl'd her and Draco, politely requesting they come for Christmas Eve dinner at the Manor House. There was no apology or further explanation for the summons, but Hermione took it as a good sign. When Draco came home the next night, she showed him the letter. With shaking hands, he read it, and then sat down on the bed with a heavy relief.

"How did you pull it off?" he asked, automatically knowing that somehow Hermione had to have done something to attract his parents' attentions.

She shrugged, feeling honesty was best in this case. "I conscripted three Gryffindors to employ a little Slytherin tactics to get your mum to see Carina," she grinned cheekily.

He pulled her into his embrace, tightly pressing his face to her abdomen. They were silent for a long while, and Hermione played with her husband's silky hair, feeling warmth spread throughout her heart. "Thank you," he sighed finally.

He showed her how appreciative he was by taking her three times that night. It was the kind of reckless sex they'd had when they'd first met – up against the dresser, bent over the end of the bed, and even on the floor (they'd tumbled over the bed, laughing, and continued shagging despite the aches and bruises that were sure to come). He fucked her until she was sore, and then they both collapsed onto the bed, finally sometime around three in the morning. Thank goodness Carina tended to sleep through the night!

**X~~~~~X**

**December 24th, 2007**

The meeting at Malfoy Manor was, at first, tense and awkward. The greetings at the door were polite and restrained, and Hermione's eyes were drawn to the spot in the Drawing Room where, nine years earlier, she'd been the recipient of the Cruciatus Curse via Bellatrix Lestrange. This made her very uncomfortable. However, as the four adults and one baby sat down on the couches to enjoy a pre-dinner cocktail, Carina started crying, and Draco immediately swept in and took her from Hermione's arms, bouncing he baby gently and shushing her. That seemed to break the ice, finally.

"You do that well, my son," Narcissa complimented as Carina calmed almost instantly. "Most fathers are rather… inept… with their children." She threw a very pointed look at Lucius, who frowned back.

Draco looked over Carina's head at Hermione, and they shared a moment of complete understanding. He was asking her permission and she gave it with a slight nod of her head and an encouraging smile. "Would you care to hold her, mother?" he asked tentatively, extending the olive branch.

The slow, gentle smile that wound up Lady Malfoy's face was very much like her son's, and Hermione realized in that moment how very much like his mother he was. He may have his father's hair, eyes and build, but he had Narcissa's graceful features. The woman stood, her heels clacking against the stone flooring. "I would be delighted to touch my grandchild _finally_," she stated, reaching out for the baby, her barb intended for her husband, who took another sip of his Rob Roy and looked to the side thoughtfully.

Carina passed between the two Malfoys carefully, and then Narcissa was cooing away, a contented twitch of lips painting her features. "My, you are a beautiful, little girl," she murmured. "And what _fashionable_ robes."

Hermione blushed when Narcissa gave her a knowing smirk. Apparently, the woman wasn't as gullible as she'd assumed… but then, she _had_ been married to a Slytherin for years, hadn't she? She took another sip of her Adonis, looking into the cheery fire nearby, and reminded herself never to try to lock tricky wits with Lady Malfoy again.

Dinner was magnificent – roasted capons, poached quail eggs, squab forcemeat in sauce, redcurrant jelly, garlic and butter red potatoes, lightly steamed Brussels and baby carrots - and the conversation flowed nicely between three of the four adults, with Lucius chiming in once in a while when a question was pitted at him. Out of the corner of her eye throughout the meal, Hermione noted that occasionally, Draco's father looked at her with perplexity and deep consideration. He also clearly noted the light touches and gentle teasing between her and Draco, and the tender attention they paid to Carina.

After the main course plates were removed by the house elves (who, Hermione noted, were better dressed and seemed happier; apparently, the Ministry's requirement that Lucius and Narcissa care for them, as punishment for Dobby's death, had made a huge difference both in the lives of the little creatures, and surprisingly in how the Malfoys now regarded them), the four were served individual-sized portions of plum pudding with warm brandy poured directly on top. It was a meal fit for kings and queens, Hermione thought, and was so full that she was afraid she'd never fit into any of her clothes again.

"That was delicious," she complimented, dabbing her napkin genteel over her lips. "Absolutely perfect."

Narcissa nodded her head in thanks. She paused for a moment and looked at her husband, and then charged ahead with what she had intended to say. "We have gifts we'd like to present."

Lucius waved his hand dismissively. "Small trifles." He seemed embarrassed, in a stiff-upper-lip, lordly sort of way.

Hermione looked at Draco, and they shared a secret smile. "We have something for you both as well," she stated.

Mrs. Malfoy blinked in surprise and graced them with a small smile. "Well, then shall we retire to the front parlor to exchange… trinkets?"

The house was huge, and Hermione couldn't wrap her head around the grandeur. Everything was gilded, floors were marble and stone, tapestries hung on thirty foot walls, cathedral windows allowed moonlight to reflect down long corridors. "How did you manage to keep yourself from getting lost as a child?" she whispered to Draco, as they walked behind his parents. He adjusted Carina in his arms again. The baby was asleep on daddy's chest.

"I didn't, actually," he grinned, whispering back. "I constantly was taking wrong turns in this place until I was ten."

In the parlor, the first thing Hermione noted was the tall Swiss Pine in the corner that was colorfully decorated with fairy lights, cinnamon-dipped pinecones, and Victorian-era ornaments. Its fresh, spicy scent filled the room. The second thing she noted was the roaring hearth, decorated elaborately out of the same Swiss Pine boughs and cones.

The group sat back into comfortably, plush sofas, Lucius' elf mixing them after-dinner _digestifs_. Hermione delicately sipped her brandy, not wanting to imbibe too much alcohol, knowing she was a lightweight drunk, and then took the plunge, going first. She reached into her purse (enchanted with an Undetectable Extensions Charm) and pulled out the Christmas present she and Draco had specially prepared for tonight for his parents. The engraved Intaglio box featured an image of a Victorian family, dressed in Promenade styles, opening presents on Christmas together before a tree. Inside, a moving family portrait of Draco and Hermione (costumed in Promenade style as well) waving Carina's tiny hand at the camera and smiling had been carefully framed.

Narcissa's eyes widened and softened. She stared at the image for a long minute before recovering her composure. "It's beautiful," she complimented. Lucius, who had taken his seat next to her, glanced at the picture in his wife's hands almost reluctantly, and then lingered a bit, his grey eyes flickering over the shapes. He took a large pull of his brandy and then turned his gaze over to the tree in the corner, narrowing his eyes in thought. Hermione was very aware of his reactions, still nervous around the man. She also paid particular attention to her husband, whose eyes seemed to notice everything at once. There was a misery reflected there whenever he glimpsed at his father.

Narcissa passed to Hermione a small wooden box that was delicately hand-painted with Italian Renaissance scrollwork. Draco indicated that she should open it for them, as he was holding onto Carina at the moment, and didn't seem inclined to let go. Pushing an intricate locking mechanism, the lid opened with a small sigh. Inside, was a rolled up scroll with a ribbon tied about it and a key. Opening the parchment, Hermione read and gasped, her hands shaking.

"This is… too much," she gaped. "We couldn't possibly…"

"Nonsense," Narcissa cut her off with a wave of her hand. "It is, after all, Draco's birthright."

It was a Gringott's vault book, indicating a sizably deposited sum – more money than Hermione knew she and her family would ever need for the entirety of their lives – as well as the deed to a 'vacation home' in Hampstead, London. Hermione never thought she'd own her own house in England, as the Muggle prices were beyond her means, and it was rare a wizarding family sold their home, as many of them stayed in the family. And she didn't make enough, even with Draco's salary combined, to buy one anyway (neither of them worked at Hogwarts for the pay, obviously).

The tears escaped her eyes, and she looked up gratefully. "Thank you."

Lady Malfoy shrugged delicate, bird-thin shoulders, but it was Lucius who replied, his tone dry, even. "It is the least we can do for our family."

Draco seemed to stop breathing next to her. He was staring at his father, and Hermione read the hope in his eyes. Neither seemed willing to take the next step, so Hermione did it for them. She reached out and took Carina out of her husband's arms and stood, crossing to her father-in-law. "Would you like to hold her, sir?" she asked. "I'm sure she'd love to know her grand-père's touch." She intentionally used the French term for 'grandfather,' knowing Lucius' family originated from the continent.

Lucius looked up at her in a combination of incredulity and interest. Narcissa slyly took his drink from his hand and Hermione bent down to pass her sleeping child off, careful not to wake her (although Carina was a pretty heavy sleeper, like her mom, and it practically took a bomb – or her hunger – to wake her up). Before either of them could protest or change their minds, Hermione transferred her little girl into her Pepere's arms. Carina hardly noticed. She yawned, squirmed, stuck her thumb into her mouth and sucked a few times and then drifted back to sleep.

The Malfoy patriarch looked somewhat amazed and intimidated for half a minute, and then he settled back into the couch, adjusted Carina over his heart and touched her with his free hand, patting her back gently. Narcissa moved in and rubbed circles over the child's little hand. She glanced up at her husband with shimmering eyes.

No one said anything, not wanting to disturb the moment, letting it unfold naturally. Hermione took her seat again next to her husband as quietly as possible, and he reached out to grip her fingers in his larger hand. The look he gave her was one of profound thanks. She smiled, leaned into his side, and sat back to watch his parents, letting the healing begin.

**X~~~~~X**

As they arrived home later that night to their own flat, Draco put Carina down for the evening. Her parents had left on a holiday cruise a few days back, and wouldn't return until after the New Year, so it was just the three of them alone in the house again. She and her husband made their way to the main living space, looking out the wide, front window. Outside, the snow was falling, blanketing the streets, dusting their small front walk.

"Thank you," Draco whispered in her ear, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms about her middle, cradling her to him. He kissed her temple. "I love you, Hermione."

Hermione smiled, thinking back on the last year of her life. It had been a journey of both pain and joy. What had started as a hot, shameful, fearful fling had blossomed into a deeply abiding love affair that she was now confidently sure would last the rest of her life.

Perhaps now was the right time to tell him…

"I have a secret Christmas gift for you," she murmured low to her lover with a smile, watching his reflection in the moonlit window.

Draco's handsome smirk wound up the side of his face. "Oh? Is this about you being pregnant again?" he asked nonchalantly, pressing his lips to her throat.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "How… did you know?"

He kissed her lips softly, tonguing between them with a quick swipe. "Our honeymoon. You forgot to take your potion that third morning."

Her eyebrows jutted into her hairline in shocked surprise. "And you just _happened_ to forget to remind me to cast the anti-pregnancy spell later that day, too?"

His mouth twitched, his grey eyes glinted in the dim light and he bent his mouth to her ear, breathing hotly against the shell. "I may have. But in my defense, I was sort of preoccupied. My wife and I fucked a lot that day, you see. And she gave me the most amazing blowjob that night on the beach. My mind just wasn't in the game."

Hermione shook her head, laughing. "I can't believe it! You knocked me up on purpose, you fink!"

Draco shrugged, turning her about and kissing her hard. "I may have." His hands roamed up and down over her body, grabbing her arse and pulling her against his rock-hard erection. "Are you angry?"

"No," she admitted, and truthfully, she wasn't. She'd wanted a big family, just as Draco did. They'd both been only children themselves, and they'd discussed having their children spaced not too far apart the week before the wedding. Eleven months apart wasn't too close… A sneaky suspicion crept into her mind, then. "Did you do it on purpose the first time, too?" He didn't deign to reply, continuing to lathe up and down her throat, nipping, seducing, even as his hands cupped her breasts under her blouse. "Why you…" she began, but he cut her off by slanting his mouth over hers fiercely.

"My turn to give you your present now, wife," he mischievously informed her, stripping her of her clothing quickly. It took until dawn, but Draco gave her the end-all-be-all of 'presents' as he screwed her against the back of the couch, on the dining table, against the wall (knocking one of her pictures to the carpeted floor), and finally ending with her straddling him on the cozy corner chair.

"Happy Christmas, love," he tiredly nuzzled her cheek, rubbing her belly as they finally lay down in their bed together under the crisp, cotton sheets, utterly sated. His breathing evened out in moments, and quickly, he was out for the count.

"Happy Christmas, my husband," she mumbled back, exhausted, but strangely not wanting to give into the lure of the Sandman just yet. Instead, she looked up into the sleep-gentled features of her lover and smiled.

Yes, it had definitely been a magical year for them both; one filled with tribulations and trials, but now, it contained hope for the future, too. They were having another baby! She hoped it was a boy this time. She wanted to give Draco a son.

Pushing back his bangs, she gently touched Draco's face… and had an epiphany. Although Hermione didn't believe in Fate on general principal (she was a 'free will' kind of girl), in those seconds before sleep claimed her, she remembered a quote from one of her favorite Muggle movies of all time, "An Affair To Remember," and couldn't help but notice how apropos it was to her situation: "_You saved my life, you know. I was bored to death," _Nickie had told Terry in the film._ "… then I saw you and it was all right. I was saved. I hope."_

Saved. That's how she felt.

For years, Hermione had been a lost soul, who'd forgotten how to love and respect herself. Her life had become one tiresome, entangled mess. She'd made poor decisions, allowed others to dictate her path for her, and had lost her sense of self-worth in exchange for being "safe." It had taken getting burned in the fire and pulling herself out to find her true identity once more. Now, she was better – and it was all thanks to the twists and turns experienced through her relationship with the most unlikely of people: her childhood tormentor, Draco Malfoy. He'd saved her by shaking up her world and knocking her boots off.

As she lay her head down on her husband's strong chest, letting herself be lulled into sleep, she realized that sometimes miracles occurred where you least expected them.

"_If you can paint… I can walk… the world can turn upside down… if…" _

**~FIN~**

**

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****AUTHOR'S FINAL NOTES:**

**Please feel free to review, if you want! I'd love to hear from you.**

**Musical inspirations for writing this fic (thank gawd for my daughter's wonderfully diverse iTunes collection!):**

_"**Run" by Kutless (Draco to Hermione)**_

_"**I Need You To Love Me" by Barlow Girl (Hermione to Draco)**_

_"**A Little Too Not Over You" by David Archuleta (Ron to Hermione)**_

_"**Need To Be Next To You" by Michelle Branch (Hermione to Draco & Draco to Hermione)**_

_"**Only Hope (piano instrumental)" by Mandy Moore for the motion picture "A Walk To Remember" (general background)**_

**- Praying Mantises are insects that have a bizarre sexual cannibal ritual: the female can literally eat the male while they are mating (it's not frequent, but it's been observed to happen, especially when the female is hungry before mating, or if the female isn't completely satiated by the sex act and the male moves too slow when dismounting her). Typically, if the cannibalism is to occur, the female starts by biting the male's head off, and works her way down until she's devoured all of him. Just another useless, but interesting tidbit to store in your brains. Bet you'll never think of sex the same way now. Yuck and you're welcome.**

**- Did you catch the date and time that Carina was born? 08/07/07 at 8:07 a.m. ^_~**

- _"__**If you can paint… I can walk… the world can turn upside down… if…" **_**= This is the final line Terry speaks to Nickie in "An Affair to Remember." This is her way of telling him that no matter what life throws at them, they can make it so long as they do it together.**

**- If you want to see how I envision Hermione's wedding dress & flowers and Carina Lyra Malfoy at the age of 6 years old, you can see those images on my Photobucket account under the folder "An Affair To Remember" (remember to replace "(dot)" with "." and get rid of spaces): http:/ s905(dot)photobucket(dot)com / albums / ac260 / RZZMG / **


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